


Beneath the Mask

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confused Harry, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy is a Good Friend, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Masks, Possessive Tom Riddle, Teenage Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Tom Riddle is plucked from his time into 1994, where the Triwizard Tournament is happening, and Harry Potter is the Fourth Champion. Taking a sudden and deep interest in Potter, he sees something that no one else can see: the boy behind the many masks he hides behind. Wanting Potter for himself, Tom Riddle decides that he will do everything in his power to help Harry survive, all so he can see what lies beneath his masks. Harry, meanwhile, looks at this as a chance of survival, a chance to figure out who he really is, and hopefully a chance to figure out where he belongs.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 209
Kudos: 472
Collections: Time Travel and World Travel





	1. Shapeshifter

Beneath the Mask

Chapter 1

Shapeshifter

Time was bored once more. She was a beautiful woman, tall with dark skin and a business dress that sparkled and shimmered like the cosmos. On her ears, she wore small pocket watches for earrings, and she kept her teal hair in a tight bun. Time was a fickle woman, being shrewd to some and kind to others, however, her greatest vice was boredom. Being the embodiment of Time, and having nothing but that, Time frequently becomes bored, and when she does, she tended to entertain herself by playing with humans.

Last time, she decided to take one person with an unbelievable fate and put him back fifty years. Another, she messed with Time-Turners so that they did not work precisely, having it so they went back either a second too late or too soon. However, now, she had a new thought, a new experiment she wanted to see.

In her office, there were crystals, dozens of crystals floating in the air. She chuckled to herself as she pulled two down, seeing the ever-expanding webs of timelines within them, all made by human choices. “I wonder,” she mused, “what will happen if I take this person and place him into a completely different timeline?” She looked into the first crystal and smiled as she saw a handsome teenage boy with dark eyes and perfect black hair. She looked at the second crystal and smirked as she saw a boy with emerald eyes hidden behind glasses, walking around in robes of black and red. She must admit that these two are some of her favorite subjects to play with.

She left the two crystals hanging in the air and returned to her desk where she pulled out a silver instrument that looked like a long thin tube with sharp ends. On each end, she attached the tubes and continued to watch the crystals. The second crystal changed, going from her favorite subject to an empty corridor in England’s Wizarding School. The date on there was November 1st, 1994 at precisely Five-thirty in the afternoon, twenty-three seconds past the minute. Time had to be precise down to the second, it was one way, in her defense, on how she can prove her superiority to Time-Turners. She froze that moment in the second crystal and then turned her attention to the first.

Inside, the handsome teen, looking no more than fourteen, was walking around his own version of Hogwarts, dressed in Slytherin robes. Time started to get excited at everything she was about to witness! The drama, the action—the angst! The woman could not wait. “I would say I’m sorry but playing with you two is just so much fun,” Time smiled. She snapped her fingers, and the transfer began.

Tom Riddle did not know why, but as he turned a corner in Hogwarts, the castle itself seemed to change. He was currently on his way to talk with Professor Slughorn about an incident that happened between him and a Ravenclaw boy he did not remember the name of, however as he walked the usual route to Professor Slughorn’s office, which he has memorized in the first year and has taken multiple times, a strong sense of vertigo hit the teen and he had to stop and catch himself against the nearest wall. He closed his eyes and groaned as the sensation passed through his body before leaving just as suddenly as it came and leaving with it a headache and a sense of confusion. For the first time in his Hogwarts career, the young Slytherin heir looked around completely lost.

The corridor looked the same as it always did, the portraits were the same, as were the suits of armor. Perhaps the caretaker has been slacking off on his duties because everything looked a little dirtier than usual, a little more worn. Yes, that must be it, Tom decided. His lost sensation was because of the caretaker’s lack of dedication to his job. With this peace of mind, the fourteen-year-old, almost fifteen, made sure that his books were in proper order and continued down his way.

He saw students as he walked and that too made him pause for a moment. Riddle was never a friendly individual, he will admit that he freely and gladly uses people, and in order to do that, he needed a good memory of what people looked at. However, as he looked around, none of the students he saw looked familiar in the slightest. This worried Tom greatly. _Where did they all come from? How are there so many students that I have not met?_ He thought to himself. Maybe the vertigo has affected his memory and given him a temporary lapse in judgment. Yes, that must be it. After all, he only associated himself with Slytherins on a regular basis. Of course, he would not perfectly remember the faces of the other Houses. Relieving himself once more, Tom continued on his way to Professor Slughorn’s office.

He continued to see students he did not recognize, and as much as it worried the young Riddle, Tom pushed it to the side. Perhaps a nap after this would be needed. He finally made it to Professor Slughorn’s office and knocked on a door, barely hearing the “enter.” He opened the door and stopped in his tracks just inside the office.

The office looked different, totally different. Slughorn’s usual flair of design and dramatics was gone, replaced by a sort of coldness. There were no pictures on the walls, but potion ingredients carefully preserved in glass cabinets, and the desk was dark wood with a few cauldrons in the back slowly simmering away. Behind the desk was a man with black hair and a hooked nose. He looked up at Tom as though he belonged there. “Yes?” the man drawled, his voice bored and uncaring.

Tom blinked, “I’m sorry but where is Professor Slughorn?” he asked. “Was his office moved recently?”

The man just stared at Tom, his upper lip scowling slightly. “I do not have time to play with your jokes,” he said coldly. “You’ve come to my office, what is it that you need?”

“Your office?” Tom asked, frowning at the man. “I’m sorry, has Hogwarts hired a new professor at the point of the year?”

The man raised an eyebrow and stood up. “I am quickly growing tired of your games,” he said. “I suggest you leave now Mr...” he stopped and stared at Tom for a long moment, a frown forming on his face. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Tom said.

“You are not any student I know,” the man muttered. “And yet, you look as though you do not belong to either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons.” Tom frowned, he heard of those. They were different schools.

“Sir why would students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons be at Hogwarts?” he asked.

The man now fully glared at him. “Are you done being an insufferable imbecile, boy?” he demanded. “The Ministry, in their infinite wisdom, deemed it appropriate to reopen the Triwizard Tournament.”

Tom stared at the man, confused. However, he did not show it. Tom’s face stayed perfectly neutral as he nodded along, his mind moving quickly to process this new information. He had not heard anything about the Ministry even planning about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. No, they were too busy dealing with Grindelwald. He examined the man before him carefully as he tried to deduce how to respond. The man just continued to scowl at him, clearly at the end of his patience. However, Tom still needed answers. “Sir why would the Ministry do that, especially with the threat that Grindelwald and his men still pose?” he asked carefully.

The man just continued to glare at him, crossing his arms rather intimidating. He stared at Tom before the door closing. “Since you refuse to speak to me clearly, it appears that I will need to inform the headmaster to get your identity. Sit.”

Tom stood as he watched the man carefully. The headmaster? Did he mean Headmaster Dippet? A small relief passed through Tom as he thought about finally seeing someone he will recognize. The man moved to the fireplace in the office and took a small tin that had floo powder. The fireplace roared with green flame and the man stuck his head into it. Tom waited the few moments it took for the man to talk with the headmaster. He withdrew his head and the green fire still burned before a second later, a man walked through.

It wasn’t Headmaster Dippet.

No, this man had long silver hair and beard as well as curious eyes that shone behind half-moon spectacles. He was wearing a purple robe with shimmering stars. He and Tom stared at each other. The man stared at Tom as though he was a ghost from a long-forgotten past while Tom stared with curiosity before a sick realization: The man was Albus Dumbledore. His Transfiguration teacher. But how? Where is Headmaster Dippet? Why did Dumbledore look so much older? In his confusion, Tom took an unconscious step forward and Dumbledore’s shock turned into immediate suspicion as his wand was suddenly pointed at Tom. The teen stopped and glanced between the both of them, refusing to show any fear.

Instead, he took a breath to control his emotions and asked, “Where is Headmaster Dippet, Professor Dumbledore?”

“This has been a rather poor plan, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “However I would like to know how you glamoured yourself to look like your old self.”

“Sir? I am sorry but I do not understand,” Tom insisted. “I came here to speak with Professor Slughorn about an assignment only to find this man in his office, and the office looking completely different.”

“Sir,” Snape said, “who is this child?”

Dumbledore looked between the two of them, his wand still aimed at Tom. He looked conflicted for only a second before saying, “This, Severus, is Tom Marvolo Riddle… he is Lord Voldemort.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. He only just begun thinking of using that name after finding the Chamber of Secrets just yesterday. How would Dumbledore and this man know, judging from the horrified faces on both of them? “Sirs,” he insisted. “Professor Dumbledore, I do not understand, please. Where is Professor Slughorn? Or Headmaster Dippet?”

“Tom, I am going to ask you questions. You will answer them truthfully,” Dumbledore said carefully. Tom stared at him for a moment and nodded. This might be the only possible way to get the two men to believe him, as well as figure out what exactly is going on. Dumbledore continued to examine Tom, and the teenager could see that the man was thinking deeply. “What was the true reason you came back to Hogwarts when you applied to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Tom blinked. “Sir? I never even thought about teaching,” he said honestly. “I never left Hogwarts to come back, I am too young. I am only fourteen.”

Dumbledore did not reply, instead, he asked, “How are you still alive, Tom? How many Horcruxes have you made?”

 _What is a Horcrux?_ Tom wondered. “Sir? I do not know what that is,” he answered. Dumbledore frowned at that. Was that the wrong answer?

The silence lasted for a moment before Dumbledore asked, “What year is it currently, Tom?”

“Sir? Are you okay?” Tom asked. “It is currently October 24th, Nineteen-Thirty-Two.”

“No, it is not, Tom,” Dumbledore said simply. “It is November 1st, Nineteen-Ninety-Four.”

“No, you’re wrong, sir,” Tom insisted. “It is Nineteen-Thirty-Two. It is impossible, Professor, for it to be anything but that.”

“However, that is where we find ourselves, Tom, an impossibility,” Dumbledore said. He finally put away his wand and gave the young teen a smile. “It seems that you have been given a second chance,” he said. “Or perhaps Hogwarts has been given a second chance.”

“I don’t understand,” Tom said. “What do you mean by a second chance?”

“I am talking about your redemption, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “You are at a point in your life where you are still innocent. An innocence that Lord Voldemort has long since discarded.”

“Who is Lord Voldemort?” Tom asked.

“He is you,” Dumbledore said simply. “Or rather, a version of you. He is a killer, a man who has fallen into the Dark Arts and went farther than any Dark Wizard before him. At the height of his power, he was the most powerful dark wizard.” Tom frowned at this but stayed quiet. “He has disappeared; however I believe that he is still out there, planning, gaining power even as we speak.”

“If he is the most powerful dark wizard, then how is it that he disappeared?” Tom asked. “Did you have a hand in that, Professor Dumbledore?”

“No, I did not,” Dumbledore said. “He was defeated, quite miraculously, by something that he could never understand. Love. A mother’s love and sacrifice for her child protected him from Voldemort. When he tried to kill the child, the curse rebounded and stole Voldemort of his body, and left the child safe, left with nothing but a scar on his forehead.”

“And this child? Where is he now?” Tom asked.

Dumbledore watched him carefully. “He is a student here, in fourth year surprisingly, the same as you from my memory. And, he has a penchant for finding trouble.” He chuckled amused while the man sneered.

“Potter would rather get attention with any trouble making he can think of,” he sneered.

Tom glanced at him and decided to ask more about this Potter later. Instead, he looked at the two men, “Now what?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be a good question to ask now,” Dumbledore nodded. “What shall we do now? It seems that you are here, if not for good, and I truly believe that you are given this gift for a second chance.” He looked at Tom’s robes then at the man. “So, I do not see a reason why you should not continue your education here. There will be a transition period, however, I am positive that you will be able to stay afloat with your new professors’ teaching habits.”

“Of course, sir,” Tom said politely, glancing between the two. “Am I correct to assume this man is one of my new professors?”

“Yes, Tom, this is Severus Snape. He is our Potions Master, as well as the head of your House.”

 _This is the Head of Slytherin?_ Tom thought, looking at the man. He was honest, he was not rather impressed. He did not let it show, however, the young teen just smiled politely at Professor Snape. “I will do my best to not disappoint you,” he said.

Snape just scowled at him before returning to his desk. Dumbledore looked between the two before stepping towards Tom. “I shall walk you to your common room, then,” he said. Tom nodded and walked out with Professor Dumbledore.

“You have joined us at an interesting time, Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said. “The Triwizard Tournament has just begun. Of course, this year is a little unusual. We have four champions, instead of three.”

“Am I correct to assume that this fourth champion would be Harry Potter?” Tom asked. Dumbledore frowned at that.

“You always were very astute to your surroundings,” he muttered. “Yes, Harry Potter is in the tournament.”

“Even though he is only fourteen? How could that have happened?” Tom asked.

“I do not know,” Dumbledore admitted. Tom watched him for a few moments before shaking his head. “However, you must know something,” Dumbledore continued. “In Slytherin, there will be students whom you might recognize, if not by face than by name. There will be a culture shock, being with your previous friends’ children and grandchildren, however, this is your new life now. I want you to prepare for it.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Tom said. He stopped as they reached the marble staircase. “I think I will be alright by myself, sir. I do not want to take you away from your work involving this tournament.”

Dumbledore watched him carefully. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Tom said politely.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Then, I shall keep an eye on you until you have adjusted yourself to your life here in Hogwarts.” Tom just nodded and watched the old man leave. His polite smile fell, and he turned to descend the marble staircase. _Finally, I thought the old man would never leave,_ he thought to himself. He looked around the castle as he walked, it all looked the same however it felt different somehow. There was a different energy going around the castle that felt odd to the tall fourth-year. _There is time enough for me to dissect them, however before that I must get my foothold into Slytherin once more._

He made the familiar way down towards the dungeon and into the dead-end where the entrance of the Slytherin common room waited. He did not bother to ask for a password, he did not need one. Salazar Slytherin made it that his heir never needed to bother with such a trifle. Instead, he faced the wall and hissed out in parseltongue, _“Open.”_

The wall opened at his command and Tom stepped through to see his old home. It was a little strange for Tom to look around and see no familiar faces, however, he was not a boy to be easily disheartened. No, he was stubborn, and as such he walked into the room with the confidence of Salazar Slytherin’s heir and sat down at his preferred armchair by the fireplace. A shadow loomed over him and he looked up to see an older Slytherin male glare at him. “That’s my spot,” he said.

“Is it now? How curious,” Tom smirked. “It seemed just so right for me to sit in it, and I rather would considering how suddenly brisk the castle is. This is the perfect distance from the fire to warm my body without becoming overheated.”

“How are you even in here? Who are you?” the boy demanded. “How did a mudblood get into Slytherin?”

“I am no mudblood,” Tom said. The longer he stared at the boy, the easier it was for him to recognize the family resemblance. He smirked, “If you are so curious to know, Flint, I am a halfblood, and you shall show me with proper respect.”

“Why would I do that?” Flint laughed.

Tom’s eyes seemed to darken. He did not move, but rather just relaxed in his seat as he pulled out his wand, his eyes turned from Flint to the fire. With a wave, he summoned a non-venomous snake. _“Bite him,”_ he commanded, and the snake complied, launching at Flint, and sinking its fangs into his leg. The older teen screamed in pain and Tom chuckled. _Poor Dumbledore, I am far from innocent,_ he thought. He looked at Flint as he tried to dislodge the snake who held on with full force. Tom dismissed it with his wand. “My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle,” he said idly. “It would be in your best interest to not anger me.”

Harry Potter lived with many masks. Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter the Hero. Harry Potter the Gryffindor. Harry Potter the Leader. Harry Potter the straight boy. Harry Potter the hurt. Harry Potter the liar. Harry Potter the abused. Harry Potter the lonely. Harry Potter the Fourth Champion. It was strange to the fourth-year just how many identities, how many personas he had. He remembered when he met Hagrid, he told the half-giant that he was Harry, just Harry. However now, as he felt a horrible pressure on him, he did not know who just Harry is.

He felt tired, mentally, and physically exhausted. Last night his name was drawn out of the Goblet of Fire. He was thrust once again into a deadly trial for the fourth time in a row since coming to Hogwarts, and he was alone. Ron was jealous of him, thinking he must have cheated. Hermione was utterly disappointed in him for being reckless, and the rest of the house was a mixture of celebration that they did not need to support Cedric Diggory and bewilderment that Harry once again be at the center of everything exciting in Hogwarts. Harry did not know how to react to all of this. Last night, Gryffindor celebrated, and they did not even notice that he slipped away for a walk. Hufflepuff hated him. That much was obvious. Another Gryffindor to steal the spotlight. Another chance for Harry to prove how amazing he is. The fourth-year hated it. He looked out of the window in the corridor he was walking aimlessly in. He could see the black lake perfectly and sitting on its shore was Durmstrang’s ship where he figured all of the Durmstrang students were, including their champion Viktor Krum. _How am I supposed to act around them?_ He wondered. _Shocked? Scared? Confident? What mask would be the safest to hide in?_

It was a funny thing to Harry, his masks. He did not start to make them consciously. They came to him naturally, or unnaturally. He learned from the Dursleys how he must act in order to survive. Be quiet. Do the work. Don’t ask questions. He learned to be quiet, to watch people, and learn how to act in order to please them. He didn’t mean to, but he found that if he acted a certain way Aunt Petunia would spit at him less, Uncle Vernon would hit him lighter… and it just continued on in Hogwarts. People had so many expectations of Harry, so many preconceptions and thoughts of how he is supposed to act and in the end, Harry found himself bowing to them. He gathered his masks one by one to feel safe and now, he’s scared to take them off. He’s scared of looking into the mirror without them.

 _I’m a shapeshifter._ A common thought that went through his mind frequently. His stomach started to knot. He groaned as his body reacted to his thoughts and severe loneliness. At this moment, only one name drove through his mind. _Draco._

He pushed himself from the window and began the search for his secret friend. It did not take surprisingly long, only twenty minutes, but soon he found Draco Malfoy walking the halls, seemingly on the way to the library. “All alone, Potter?” he smirked.

“Paint,” was all Harry said and Draco’s smirk went away. A concerned look replaced it and he immediately took Harry’s hand. They went through secret passageways and staircases, running through the castle as they avoided everyone until they reached a corridor on the seventh floor. They walked the corridor three times until they found a simple door.

They entered a simple room with two blank easels with comfortable chairs in front of them, and small tables with paints of every imaginable shade of color. On the walls were paintings of various skill levels. On the right side were different subjects from portraits, sceneries, and even landscape with grand castles or manors appearing in them, while others have people, always males, embracing each other. On the left side, however, were paintings of a single thing: a mask. Over and over again, paintings of masks filled the left side of the room. They were of different designs and colors, sometimes full and sometimes half. There were no expressions behind the eyeholes, only a dark blank void, and there was never a person wearing the mask either. At the end of the room was another door that Draco never went through but knew that Harry entered numerous times.

Draco worried for his friend as they sat down. The blank canvases shimmered, changing to show two projects that were half completed. Harry’s was of a half-mask that looked like something a person would wear at a masquerade. The outline was gold with half of the interior looking to be started painted red. There were also two sketches of lions in the mask that, for two years of practicing, looks fairly professional. Draco’s painting, however, was of two people smiling as they cast what looked to be a powerful spell at an unexpected dummy which looked surprisingly a lot like Dumbledore.

They both picked up their brushes and started to work. “What caused this?” Draco asked, glancing at Harry.

“I don’t know, just too much,” Harry muttered. “I don’t know how to react. Should I be shocked? Scared? Should I be confident when I see the other champions? Or show them my fear? How I hate this so much… do they expect me to hate this? I just don’t know.”

Draco frowned, “How do you feel?” he asked. “Beneath it all.”

“I… I feel,” Harry paused. _How does Draco expect me to feel?_ He couldn’t help but wonder, even though he hated it. In here, when he’s painting, he always felt that he can be his true self. However, when he tried to verbalize it, he found that he couldn’t. He did not want to reach for his mask, he really didn’t, but he could feel it slipping on as he looked at his friend. “Scared,” he said, which he felt was the mask closest to how he felt he was supposed to feel. “I don’t want to do any of this but, I know they will force me to.” He turned to his painting and started to work on the lion. He and Draco worked on their paintings for some time, both quiet as they focused on their work. Two hours passed by quickly and Harry placed his brush down. “I’m a shapeshifter,” he said softly to himself. “What else should I be?”

He took out his wand and with a wave, the painting floated off its easel and joined the others on the wall, underneath a plaque appearing. Harry aimed his wand and named the mask and painting _Hero._ Draco finished with his and did the same, adding the painting to his side and named it _Friends’ Practice._

Draco looked at Harry and watched him for a moment as the young teen stared at the many masks. “Would you still like a break?” he asked.

Harry turned, frowning. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Draco checked the time and nodded to himself. “It is only Five-fifty,” he said. “Why don’t you come relax with me in the Slytherin Common Room?” he asked. “I think it might do you good, not so many masks for you to wear there.”

Harry stared at Draco for a moment and smiled, nodding. “I would like that,” he said in a small voice. He reached out and took Draco’s hand, allowing his friend to lead him out of their special room and down towards the dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room waited for them both.


	2. Empty Mirrors

Chapter 2

Empty Mirrors

Tom Riddle was quickly approached by two Slytherin students who looked around his age and year. One was a small mousy boy with black hair and blue eyes behind a simple pair of glasses, and the other was a tall boy with dark skin, short black hair, and smiling brown eyes. The two sat across from Tom and glanced at where Flint was once laying in pain, he has long since run away.

“That was quite some entrance,” the dark-skinned boy smirked. “You say your name’s Tom Riddle? I’m Blaise, Blaise Zabini. This is my friend, Theodore Nott.”

“Hello,” the other boy said softly.

Tom stared at the two, his eyes moving towards Nott. _He must be Nott’s grandson,_ he thought. _He looks to have the same nervousness._ Tom gave the two a pleasant smile and relaxed in his seat. “It is a pleasure to meet the both of you, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.”

Blaise leaned forward and looked around, “So, would you like to tell me how it is you could talk to snakes? Everyone around heard you hissing at it.”

Tom smirked at the two and his pride swelled with an air of superiority, “Isn’t it obvious, boys?” he chuckled. “I am a Parseltongue. I am Slytherin’s heir.” He waited, expecting the eventual revelry and reverence that comes with this revelation. However, the two just stared at him. The taller one watching him carefully while the smaller one looked thoughtful. “So that makes two,” he muttered.

Tom almost cracked, the edges of his mouth twitched and for a small moment, his eyes flashed with something dangerous. What did they mean by two? That was impossible! He is the only heir, and even at his young age, he has no interest in breeding. No, girls did nothing for him. “What do you mean?” he asked, still holding his polite smile.

“You’re the second Parseltongue in Hogwarts,” Blaise Zabini explained. “The other one is a Gryffindor named Harry Potter.”

There was that name again. Harry Potter. Tom raised an eyebrow at it. He found himself growing a small obsession. How could it be that in not even an hour he has heard so much about this one boy? “Potter?” he said. “Interesting. I must admit I never heard of him. Though it seems unlikely, does he have Slytherin’s blood as well?” he asked.

“No,” Theodore Nott said, shaking his head. “The Potters do not have a strong tie to Salazar Slytherin.”

“I see,” Tom muttered. “However boys, rest assure that I do. I am a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. That being said, how is it, then, that this Potter boy also has the ability to speak Parseltongue?”

“Nobody knows,” Blaise answered with a shrug. “Though I’m more interested in you, Tom, where did you come from? I never saw you before. Flint has been crying about some stranger who just came in and sicced a snake on him.”

If Tom were anyone else, he would have panicked in that moment. Instead, the Slytherin who was so sly and so slick made up a story. He looked perfectly relaxed in his chair as he looked at his fellow Slytherins. “I was homeschooled. I lived with my mother and her brother. My father was an awful muggle, took my mother by force if you need to know. She was in love with him and he took advantage of it and I was the result. My uncle never let me forget that, even though my mother tried her best to raise me. I was even named after the disgusting muggle, except for my middle name. She gave me my grandfather’s name for that. Due to personal reasons that I do not fully know, my mother and uncle decided to homeschool me, which they did until their unfortunate passing a couple of weeks ago. I was then sent to Hogwarts. I just arrived not even an hour ago.”

“My sympathies,” Blaise said, frowning. “I’m sorry about your mother and uncle.”

Tom just shrugged. “It is fine, they kept me locked in a sort of bubble. But now I am free, and oh so interested in learning about everything I missed about the outside world. For example, I just learned about the Triwizard Tournament, and in the hour I have been here I have only heard about this Harry Potter. So, Blaise, Theo, would you please divulge for me the story of Potter?”

The two glanced at each other and nodded. “We love to,” Blaise began, “however…”

“There are some things that we cannot tell you. We promised Draco Malfoy,” Theo said. “There are some things that even we don’t know but, maybe if you ask Draco he’ll answer. You seem like a nice guy, Tom, I don’t see why he would say no to you.”

“I see, then please, tell me what you do know, and can explain,” Tom said. “I would hate for the two of you to overstep your boundaries. Perhaps we can begin with how a boy with the ability to speak Parseltongue landed himself in the house of lions?”

The two glanced at each other and gave a small nod. “Okay, well we don’t know how Potter exactly grew up, only Draco and his other two Gryffindor friends know that, and even then I don’t think even the Gryffindors know the true extent,” Blaise said. “We haven’t heard of him until we were all eleven and on the Hogwarts Express. Draco… did not make a good impression on him, but I honestly blame the fact that Potter spent the entire ride with Weasley. Either way, the first time I saw him, I thought something was off personally. He didn’t smile. And I’m not talking about being nervous, I am talking about that he did not smile, period. It was like his face was blank and only after looking around at everyone else did he finally look nervous.”

“Curious,” Tom muttered, not at the boy’s actions, but at how familiar it all sounded. “Then the Sorting Hat should have screamed Slytherin the moment it touched his head, correct?”

“You would think, but no,” Blaise said.

“It was silent,” Theo said, bringing attention to himself. “Very silent for a long time. As though it couldn’t decide, but then it shouted out Gryffindor and Potter looked relieved, looking at Weasley, then he finally smiled.”

“So what?” Tom asked, looking between the two of them. “You believe Weasley might have influenced Harry Potter’s decision?”

“We know,” Blaise said. “Because he told us himself in second year, but we’ll get there. I’m not sure if you know but Potter has a habit of finding trouble.” He chuckled and smiled ruefully. “In our first year, we kept hearing rumors about him. On Halloween, he and Weasley knocked out a troll, and later on, Potter went up against You-Know-Who himself to get the Philosopher’s Stone!”

“You-Know-Who? Are you talking about Voldemort?” Tom asked, the two jumping.

“Don’t say his name!” Blaise hissed and Tom nodded. _So they fear Voldemort’s name? I wonder what the other has been up to._ “I am sorry, please, continue,” he said.

Blaise nodded, “In second year, we thought that it was Harry who was the Heir of Slytherin. The Chamber of Secrets, Slytherin’s secret chamber, was opened once more.”

“Once more?” Tom said. _Did they know that I am the one who found the Chamber first?_ He wondered. “What happened the first time?”

“A student died,” Theodore Nott said. “But this time, nobody died, however, there were a few students who were petrified before being revived. However, the interesting thing was that that was when Draco and Potter started their friendship. We’re not exactly sure how, but one day Draco brought Potter here, and that was it. He became a common sight here.”

“Interesting,” Tom said. _I cannot wait to meet this Harry Potter. He seems like such an interesting character._ “How did Potter close the Chamber of Secrets?”

“We’re not sure,” Theo said, glancing at Blaise. “We heard that he went down there and killed the monster found in it.” _The poor basilisk,_ Tom lamented. He had just met it yesterday, and now it is dead.

“So, what happened third year then, on Harry Potter’s interesting journey?” he asked with a soft chuckle.

“From what we heard, Harry’s godfather Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban and into Hogwarts,” Blaise said. “People say that he works for You-Know-Who but, well, we know that is false.”

“Blaise,” Theo hissed, glancing at Tom.

“Sorry. Anyway, because of Black, we had dementors around the school. It was awful, we couldn’t step outside at times. They affected Potter the most for some reason, he even fainted off his broom during a Quidditch match! Anyway, a lot of things happened including our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher turning out to be a werewolf! Of course, he had to be sacked which was a shame, he was honestly the best teacher we had so far. I heard that our teacher and Black used to be good friends with Potter’s parents.”

“They were,” Theodore Nott nodded, “along with Peter Pettigrew, whose crimes Black was framed for, even though he is… officially dead. This part, Blaise and I heard from Draco, who in turn heard from Harry himself. Pettigrew never died, but instead was the reason You-Know-Who knew where to find the Potters. Their deaths were on Pettigrew’s hands, and Black tried to get revenge, but when he cornered Pettigrew, the rat caused an explosion that killed thirteen muggles and left only a finger. That was why Black went to Azkaban. When he came to Hogwarts, it was to find Pettigrew, who hid as a rat for all this time, eventually becoming a family pet for the Weasleys.”

“How disgusting,” Tom commented. “And the Weasleys knew none the wiser?”

“No,” Theo said. “They did not even suspect that their rat was anything but that, a normal rat. At the end of the school year, Sirius Black dragged Harry’s friend Ron Weasley into the Shrieking Shack, an abandoned home at the edge of Hogsmeade, and there everyone collided. Professor Lupin and Sirius Black had their reunion and tried to kill Pettigrew, only for Harry to stop them. Harry wanted to use the man to prove Black’s innocence. However, it was also the night of the full moon, and, well, Professor Lupin transformed, and Pettigrew escaped.”

“Black almost had his soul sucked out of him by hundreds of Dementors, but Harry fought them off with a Patronus, and later helped the man escape Hogwarts,” Blaise ended for him.

“Potter can perform a Patronus? My, I have to say that is a very impressive feat for a teenager,” Tom said. An image of the boy appeared in his head. A strong wizard who was confident, yet sly. Perhaps he was tall with a handsome expression that hid his true intentions. Someone like Tom. He wondered how he would react to that, dealing with a person exactly like him. It would be interesting; however, Tom Riddle has always been a possessive and competitive child. He refused to be in the shadow of his reflection. “And now,” he said, “to bring us to present day, Potter is now the Fourth Champion for the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Yes, and nobody knows how he was entered,” Blaise nodded. Tom hummed thoughtfully and leaned back. His wand was pulled out and the teen took to twirling it between his fingers.

“This will be very interesting,” he said, more to himself than Blaise and Theo. “I have to say, your friend sounds very interesting, I cannot wait to meet him personally.”

The door to the common room opened and the three glanced at it out of curiosity to see who walked in. Blaise smirked and said with a chuckle, “Well here’s your chance, there’s Harry Potter right now.” He pointed towards two teens who walked in and Tom stared in disbelief. _That is Harry Potter?_ He thought. The blond teen he recognized immediately. He looked a spitting image of Abraxas Malfoy. But next to him was a small teen. An unhealthily small teen. His raven hair looked disheveled and his emerald eyes pretended to look happy, but Tom saw through that immediately. He saw the void behind those eyes, the blackness that he tried to hide. It was intoxicating for him, and Tom found himself wanting more. He wanted to figure out what this child was. To see the void hidden behind his masks. Their eyes met and in an instance, his happiness was gone, replaced by fear. Tom was curious, wondering if he had somehow met him before, perhaps a future version during his adventures in the Chamber of Secrets? It did not matter in that moment. He will find out eventually. The Malfoy heir saw him along with his friends, and Tom saw the Malfoy staring at him with caution. But nevertheless, both walked towards him and the other two.

“Zabini, Nott, who is your friend?” Malfoy asked.

“This is Tom Riddle,” Blaise introduced friendlily. “He just came to Hogwarts. He was homeschooled until his mother and uncle died. Tom, this is Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.”

Harry stared at him with a strange look in his eye that was a mixture of fear and disbelief. Malfoy, however, crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Riddle,” he muttered.

Tom knew exactly what Malfoy was thinking of. So, he explained. “I am a halfblood. My mother was a witch,” he said.

“I see,” Draco said, his eyes softening a little but still staring at the newcomer with suspicion. Tom just smiled politely and looked at Harry.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter,” he said. “Forgive me for being forward, but Theo and Blaise here were catching me up on your adventures and current predicament.”

“Oh… they were,” Potter spoke for the first time, his voice soft, emotionless. His eyes shifted towards Blaise and Theo.

“Yeah, sorry Harry—but we just told him what the school knows,” Blaise said, giving Harry a guilty grin. “Except for last year, we uh had to give him more information so it could all make sense.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

“However, we did not go into the most interesting part about you,” Tom smiled. He looked at the seat in front of him then glanced at Harry. “If you would?”

“Harry?” Draco said, looking between the two.

“It’s fine,” Harry said, shaking his head. He moved to sit across from Tom Riddle. Tom leaned back and looked at the other three before looking at Harry. So Harry,” he began, _“I would love if you tell me how it is people think you are Slytherin’s Heir.”_

Harry gasped. The sudden parseltongue broke his masks if only for a second, and he gathered them again and looked at his three friends. They all looked shocked, however Draco more so than the others. _Do they know?_ He worried mentally before turning to Tom Riddle. How is it that he is here? He did not know how to react, so he did his best to stay stoic as he answered, _“How are you here?”_

 _“That is something I would love to learn myself, but it pays little matter,”_ Tom answered smoothly. _“But that look in your eyes Potter, you know me. How is that?”_

 _“You disappeared with the diary, how are you back here?”_ Harry demanded, a glare breaking through his stoic demeanor. Tom raised an eyebrow at that.

_“I’m sorry Harry Potter, but I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, all I did was walk around a corner, and somehow I’ve traveled fifty years. That said, I do know that we are not related. So I ask again: Why do you have Salazar Slytherin’s gift?”_

_“I do not know, I always had it,”_ Harry answered. _“But I am not Slytherin’s heir.”_

That caused Tom to laugh. It was deeper than Harry expected, as though he has already gone through the worst of puberty. _“Of course you aren’t, Harry. I am.”_ Even though Harry already knew that the open confirmation still sent a shiver down his spine.

 _“I know,”_ Harry whispered.

 _“But how? How do you know me, Harry Potter? Do you know me just by Voldemort, a name I have just begun thinking of using… or perhaps from the Chamber of Secrets, which I have discovered only yesterday to me?”_ Tom asked. _“Tell me, Harry Potter, tell me everything.”_

Harry swallowed heavily. Can he? Should he? Harry didn’t know. He didn’t know how to act, how to answer. All he had was his blank mask, hiding himself away. His Gryffindor mask wouldn’t work here, nor would his hero or lonely or friendly. He panicked. How did Tom want him to act? Did he expect a clear answer? A straight answer? Or maybe a smart answer? Harry glanced at Draco, who watched the two confused. “Harry? What are you two talking about?” Draco asked.

“We just wanted to see how we both have our gifts,” Tom answered smoothly. “I have it because I am a direct descendant from Slytherin. However Harry… we are both unsure.” He glanced at Harry and the Gryffindor found his voice stuck in his throat. He nodded along with Tom as Riddle gave him a look that clearly said that they were not done.

“Anyway, how are you feeling Harry?” Blaise asked, glancing at him and Draco.

“Better,” Harry said, his face slowly lifting as he smiled at his friends. “Draco and I finished our paintings.”

“That’s good,” Theo commented.

“Yeah, but when are you going to show us your paintings, Harry?” Blaise asked with a small pout. “Draco showed us some of his!”

“Oh—uhh,” Harry’s cheeks turned red. His paintings were his. They were him. He didn’t, he didn’t want everyone to see all of him. Not even Draco knew how many times Harry went to their painting room alone to just paint. He made those special masks when he was alone, masks that nobody would see. As he blushed, he couldn’t help but notice Tom Riddle’s eyes on him. Those dark eyes that never flinched or faltered. He did his best to ignore them, but they were an everlasting presence that looked at him. _Him._ Not his masks, but Harry himself. The thought terrified the young Gryffindor. He looked back to Blaise and muttered, “They’re not ready.”

“Aw man,” Blaise sighed, “and Draco won’t tell me what you paint! Fine, we’ll wait, right Theo?”

“Of course,” Theo said softly.

“You paint?” Tom asked.

“A little,” Harry said, his blush deepening. _Why am I blushing? Is it embarrassment? Anger? Fear? Something else?_ “I started when I was twelve.”

“Despite only painting for two years, Harry shows a lot of natural promise,” Draco pushed in. “Of course, he is not as good as me, I’ve been painting and drawing since I was four.”

“Scribbling doesn’t count, Draco,” Blaise laughed, earning him a glare. Harry giggled at that and turned to face Tom Riddle completely.

“Draco taught me everything I know,” he said honestly. “I have… things and painting is the best way to calm me down.”

“Interesting,” Tom smiled. “I too have personal things I’ve dealt with, for example for all of today I’ve felt that I have extreme vertigo, as though I have taken a step out of time.” He added a soft chuckle to show that he was joking. “That said, if I may Harry, can I ask you one more question, in Parseltongue that is.”

Harry was surprised at the request for consent. He looked at the other three and nodded. Tom smirked and leaned forward. Harry found himself leaning forward as well and Tom took a deep breath, as though sniffing the air. _“Innocent Gryffindor, sweet Harry Potter,”_ he began, _“You are so interesting to me. Our lives are seemingly interlocked, and yet I know nothing about it. I want to learn all about it, all about you and your connection with Lord Voldemort. But before that, I must know, how is it that you are surrounded by Dark Magic?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is one way to get some exposition out there. Still figuring out which day to post this on weekly but decided to give you guys a bit more to read until then. Thank you for reading and please review.


	3. Revealing Dark

Chapter 3

Revealing Dark

_I’m a shapeshifter. What else should I be? Please don’t take off my mask. My disguise.…_

Harry felt his world shrinking. He looked at Draco and worried frantically as his mind brought him back to their second year, where their friendship began and their dabbling in the dark arts started.

It was mid-April, and Harry just came to the realization of his masks. Or rather, his mask of being different from all the boys. He was thinking of a teacher he used to have when he still went to muggle school. The teacher was named Mr. Locke, and he had a rather fit body that his shirts hugged nicely. Harry did not know why but he always paid attention to Mr. Locke when he taught. It was Mr. Locke, in fact, who saw that Harry barely had lunch. When the other kids brought in sandwiches and fruits and cookies, all Harry brought was a couple of stale pieces of bread. So, Mr. Locke would bring in extra food and, like no big deal, handed out food to the class, Harry always getting a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a big juicy apple and some sweats while the other kids got just the sweats. That only made Harry like him more. _Was he my first crush?_ Harry wondered. _Can I have a crush like that at ten years old?_

“Hey Potter, deciding who you’ll turn to stone next?” a voice sneered behind him. Harry wasn’t good at putting up his masks at this point. He turned and stared at Draco with a cold expressionless face.

“Leave me alone, Malfoy,” he said.

Instead of sneering back, Draco just stared at him. “Potter… are, are you okay?” he asked. The question shocked Harry. Was he okay? He didn’t really know. Ron and Hermione never asked that they just went along with every trouble that came their way. He stared at Draco and shook his head. “I’m not,” he whispered.

Draco stared at Harry for a moment and, as though he made a decision, held out his hand. “Come with me,” he said confidently.

Harry stared at the hand for a moment. He felt his cheeks blush softly and his heart raced as he took a breath and reach out towards Draco. Their hands interlocked and held on tightly as Draco pulled Harry to his feet. Draco smiled brightly at Harry and never let go of his hand. “Ready?” he asked. Harry nodded and Draco pulled him along, moving through secret passages and stairways that Harry did not know about. They reached a corridor on the seventh floor. The two walked through the corridor three times until a door appeared and they walked inside.

It was a simple room with two blank easels. Draco grinned at Harry and pulled him gently inside. Harry looked around the room, very impressed and awe-stricken. “Where are we?” he asked.

“A secret room I found last year,” Draco said. “This is where I go where I want to be alone, where I want to paint,” he pointed at the easel, “and do something else.” His cheeks started to blush, and the young Malfoy heir took a breath. “You know that there are Dark magic that aren’t illegal?” he asked.

“What?”

“Just listen, we actually are taught a lot of dark magic here in Hogwarts,” he said. “They’re just not illegal while others are. Sometimes when I get really frustrated or I have so much emotion I’m going to explode, I come in here and yell out every dark jinx and hex I know before I feel calm enough to paint the rest away.”

“You want me to use dark magic!?” Harry gasped.

“And paint,” Draco nodded. Harry frowned. He looked at the two easels. “I… I don’t know how,” he admitted.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you,” Draco said. “Here, we can be just us, you know, just Harry and Draco. I really do want to be your friend Harry, I just got really jealous when you picked Weasley over me.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, thinking that was what Draco to hear. Draco stared at him. “Are you?” he asked.

“I—I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “I don’t know how to act at times. In order to feel better, I use masks,” he admitted. “Masks that I make based on how I think others expect me to feel.”

“Oh,” Draco said, not fully understanding. He gave Harry a smile, “Then we’ll shout out our best jinxes and then I can teach you how to paint your masks.” And so they did. The two spent half an hour yelling out any jinx they could think of, and Harry would admit that he felt a sort of rush that made him feel good. Afterward, the two sat down and Draco taught Harry how to paint. His first mask was very simple and not very defined. Just a gold and red mask that wasn’t evenly proportioned even though the boys did their best.

Harry just stared at the finished project, his face blank. Draco thought that Harry wasn’t happy with it. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll get better with practice.”

Harry shook his head, “No,” he said. “I like it. Thank you Draco,” he looked at Draco and smiled, “can we come back here again?”

“Of course Harry,” Draco said and just like that, a friendship began along with Harry’s habit of painting, his consciousness of his masks, and a curious examination into the Dark Arts.

 _“You do not need to answer me now,”_ Tom hissed, snapping Harry back to the present day. The Gryffindor looked at Tom and something shifted in him. He did not know why, but he felt that the Tom Riddle was not the Tom from the Diary or Voldemort. _“No,”_ he said, _“No I’m sorry, I just was thinking.”_

He looked towards Draco and said in English, “I started my look into the Dark Arts the same day my friendship with Draco began,” he said.

“Interesting,” Tom hummed. He smiled at Harry, “Thank you for trusting me with this,” he said.

“You won’t tell anyone, of course,” Blaise said, “right, Riddle?”

“And be a hypocrite? Of course not,” Tom Riddle said. He crossed his legs and said smoothly, “I too dabble in the Dark Arts, the illegal kind of course, as well as the legal and in-between. Everything my aunt and uncle taught me.”

“How, how much?” Harry asked, a little scared. Tom smiled, “Nothing purely illegal, mind you. I cannot do the Unforgivable Curses, and still am a little afraid, however, I was taught that Parseltongue can have an effect on our magic.”

“It can?” Harry gasped.

“Yes, I’ve seen it myself,” Tom nodded, remembering the book he managed to sneak out of the Chamber yesterday. He spent all night devouring any and all information he could in that time. Hopefully, it is still in his robe pocket. He brought his hand to it and smiled when he felt a bulge. “I’m still researching it of course, but if you want, I can teach you, Harry,” he offered. “It might help you with the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry stared at Tom. He was still suspicious, still fearful, and yet he felt relaxed. The others were relaxed, and he knew that Draco would never let anything horrible happen to him. And he wanted to survive. There was only so much that he can do by himself. Perhaps he could form a new mask? A mask for Tom Riddle. That sounds good. A mask for what he wants to see, but what that is, Harry did not know yet. Only time will tell. But until then… he nodded. “I would like that,” he said softly.

“Excellent, then I’ll teach you once I’ve learned,” Tom smiled politely. “Keep me updated on the tasks and what they want you to do, understand Harry?”

Harry nodded and Tom offered his hand. _“I know you must be comparing me to Voldemort; however I want you to know you have nothing to worry about. I am nothing like that old Dark Wizard,”_ he hissed, glancing at the others. _“I do not know why I am here, or how, but I am determined to make the most of it, shall we try a friendship, Harry?”_

 _“Okay,”_ Harry hissed softly, and he shook Tom’s hand. A satisfied grin grew on Tom’s face. He held Harry’s hand tight and stared into Harry’s eyes as he refused to let go. Harry felt Tom’s gaze piercing him. Like before he felt his masks sliding off as Tom looked through them, and just as before it terrified the young teen. He pulled to let go but Tom kept holding his hand until he was satisfied. “It’s such a shame you’re in Gryffindor,” Tom hummed. “You looked like you truly belong here, Harry.”

“Well, I’m supposed to,” Harry said, a confident look replacing his shock. “The hat wanted me to go to Slytherin, but I told it no and choose Gryffindor.”

“Is that so?” Tom chuckled, “a pity. Then I suppose you have to run away back to the lions soon?”

“Yeah, I should,” Harry sighed. “Ron and Hermione get worried when I’m away for a long time.”

“Then run away Harry, we’ll talk later,” Tom said, finally letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Y-Yeah,” Harry nodded. He glanced at his hand and looked at Draco and the others. “Uhh, I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye Harry,” Blaise grinned. “Have fun with the lions.”

“Be careful,” Draco said sincerely. Harry nodded and waved silently to Theo who waved goodbye back. The four Slytherins watched Harry leave and Tom sat down back in his seat. He looked at the others.

“Harry is gay,” he stated.

Draco, Blaise, and Theo glanced at each other, looking unsure about how to respond. Draco sat up and looked protective as he glared at Tom, “Not that it’s your business Riddle, but yeah he is,” he said. “What about it?”

Tom smiled, “Relax Malfoy, I told you three before that I am not a hypocrite. I personally wanted to know if Harry and I, to use a crude phrase, swung the same way.” He smirked at their confused look and decided to elaborate. “I’m gay myself and find Harry very attractive,” Tom said simply. “I was just wondering about his current… relationship.”

“He’s single,” Draco answered shortly. “But if you try to hurt your feelings, you’ll have me to deal with.”

“Naturally, and I promise I won’t hurt his feelings,” Tom said. He looked at the door and hummed, “I mean, we only just met, it’s only proper if we become friends first. Which I hope happens between us, friendship.”

“Uh, yeah,” Blaise said, glancing between the others. Tom just smiled politely and leaned back, “So,” he said. “What should I know about our professors?”

Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. He took deep breaths as he worked over what happened in Slytherin Common room and slipped on his mask. Tom Riddle, the same boy from the diary, the same boy who turned into Lord Voldemort, is somehow here looking fourteen. He seemed to be just as confused as Harry was, especially because he didn’t know anything about the Chamber of Secrets or the diary. _Can I trust him?_ The thought run through as he thought about Tom. Is he trustworthy? That was something that he could not figure out. Something that he needed to find out, and to do so, Harry felt like he was throwing himself into danger. But still, if it ended with him learning to better handle himself, maybe in the end he will survive. But first, he had to return to his other friends, the friends who only knew his masks.

Harry the Gryffindor. Harry the lion. Harry the leader. Harry the hero. One by one, Harry slipped his masks on, and a smile appeared on his face. He was happy, yes, hanging out with Draco always leave him feeling happy, but it was a different happiness that he showed. The Gryffindors expected him to be happy that he became a Champion, and so he must smile.

Ron, predictably, did not even talk to Harry as he walked in. Harry felt horrible but he did not know how to fix Ron’s jealousy. The rest of the day went by, and Harry only hoped that, somehow, things would improve soon as everyone gets used to the idea of him being champion.

However, he soon found himself wrong. He could no longer avoid the rest of the school once he was back at lessons—and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought Harry had entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. It was plain to see that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion’s glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever got any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. During one Herbology lesson, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchey, who Harry was usually on good terms with, did not talk to him even though they were reporting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray—though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry’s grip and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn’t talking with Harry either, Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered her normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other. Harry was at a loss on how to deal with this, he was angry at Ron and hurt but yet he did not dare break out or burst at him. If this was how Ron wanted him to act, then he will act that way.

The only saving grace, strangely enough, was Tom. Watching Tom adjust to classes and charm their professors made Harry feel strange. He almost wanted to go and sit with him more, talk with him and the other Slytherins but knew that he couldn’t. The others would hate him even more, though it broke his heart. At least he and Draco had their paint room. Draco… one of the disadvantages of having his secret friendship with the Slytherins was that he couldn’t go to them for comfort. They all had their acts to play, and while Slytherin House, in general, has accepted him, they all knew that outside, they had to act the same as ever: The Villainous Snakes taking on the lone Courageous Lions. It was horrible, Harry hated playing those roles, and with Tom added to the mix, it made it all the more difficult. During that week, Harry made sure to find Tom, to explain to him why they had to act the way they did, the pressures every had on him. Tom just smiled politely and nodded along before chuckling.

“Harry, I’m getting a sense that you are living not for yourself, but for them,” he said with a knowing smirk.

“N-No I’m not,” Harry tried to argue but Tom went on.

“You are Harry, I have a feeling I know you better than anyone here, and it is not even Friday,” Tom said. “You try to please everyone, wearing masks that fit their expectations and mood. Even now, I can see the tell signs that you are wearing them. I want to know two things, my new friend. Why? And How many?”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “It’s easier this way,” he muttered. “It’s easier to just wear my masks and act how they expect me to, even though it scares me, even though I sometimes don’t want to… I find I can’t stop. As for how many, I’ve lost count.”

Tom sighed. He reached for Harry’s hand and pulled him along the corridor, never letting go as they talked. “I know how hard it is to take off your masks, we’re both wearing them now. I don’t want to go into personal details yet, my new friend, however, Harry, I wish that you truly know that I understand completely where you are coming from. No child our age should have so many masks. I will not ask that you take them all off for me, however, instead, I would ask that you make another mask, a new mask.”

“You want me to hide more?” Harry asked, confused.

“Not hide, but make a reflection of yourself, your true self, that you feel comfortable wearing,” Tom explained. “You are resourceful, cunning, and quite attractive. Make a mask for me Harry, let me into you, and I will construct a mask for you as well.”

Harry did not know how to respond but he found himself nodded. Tom smiled and shocked Harry once more by kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Harry Potter,” he purred. “Now, how about you and I head to the library, and work on some of our annoying homework?”

“But the others—”

“Do not matter,” Tom said smoothly, “I want to spend time with my new friend, and I do not care at all what others will think of me because of it. Why should you?” Harry did not have an answer. It was difficult being with Tom, he was always left speechless and off-centered. And yet, he also liked it. It was strange, here was a young Voldemort, and yet Harry found himself slowly wanting to spend time with his new friend. A friend like Draco, who knows about his masks and yet he was the only one who can see through them, and that still terrified Harry. But it also excited him.

“Tom, there’s something you need to know,” he said softly as they made their way to the library, Tom still holding Harry’s hand.

“Hmm?”

“I… I don’t know who I am,” he admitted. “When I look in the mirror sometimes, I don’t recognize myself. And when I do, it scares me.”

Tom smiled at that, “Then we will work to conquer the mirror.”

“One more thing,” Harry said, his voice growing small. “Please, don’t take away my masks completely.”

“Of course not, my new friend,” Tom said. He glanced around and hissed out, _“I promise that I will never do anything you are uncomfortable with, anything you do not want consciously or unconsciously.”_

_“Thank you.”_

Just as Tom said, the two boys went to the library to work on a few assignments. Students obviously stared at them, and Harry’s cheeks turned red from the glares and curious looks, however, he found himself sturdy with Tom around. They went to a secluded corner of the library and worked diligently for almost two hours. By the time they were done, Tom asked, “Harry do you know if Hogwarts’ library has muggle books?”

“I actually do not know,” Harry muttered. _Why would he need that?_

“I will go and ask,” Tom said standing up. He returned looking sadden not even five minutes later. “No, it does not,” he hummed. “Shame.”

“What were you looking for?” Harry asked.

“A collection of works,” Tom shrugged. “It might help us both, and I am rather a fan of the gothic genre, both general and romantic.” He thought for a moment, “I will have to ask around then,” he said.

“Hermione might help,” Harry said, “She’s always reading a book maybe she knows?”

“That would be lovely, would you introduce me to her tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sure,” Harry nodded. Satisfied, the two made their separate ways and Harry found himself in the Gryffindor Common Room once more, his mind on Tom.

 _A new mask, one just for him,_ Harry thought. How would such a mask look? He looked around, nobody was talking with him or even noticing him tucked away in the corner. So, feeling a little bold, Harry pulled out a notebook and turned to a clear page. He stayed huddle towards himself as he pulled out a muggle pencil and began to sketch, openly in secret for the first time. A mask for Tom, that is what he will make. But how will it look? Full-faced or half? If it’s half, will it be the top half? Or one of the sides? Thoughts swirled in his head, and Harry found that his hand moved automatically. Will he be sly and cunning? Courageous or bashful? Terrified or excited? Harry felt a rush of emotions that he barely felt before, and he found himself almost smiling as he sketched. However, every now and again he would glance up around him and remember where he was and his smiling and good feelings would disappear, all covered up by his masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books and Dark Magic! The best thing to start a relationship on!


	4. Masquerade

Chapter 4

Masquerade

It was too easy for Tom to develop a rapport with his new professors. For example, Professor Snape, his Potions teacher, was severely different from Professor Slughorn and yet Tom could easily see the same intelligence, the same methodical thinking that is needed to brew potions. The man was a perfectionist and wanted nothing else besides that. He would yell and criticize tomfoolery and praise diligence. The only problem Tom had personally was that his Harry, his new obsession, was Professor Snape’s usual target for any scorn or jeer. The man clearly hated his boy and the rest of Gryffindor House while spoiling Slytherin. Tom did not like that at all, in fact during his after a particularly nasty lesson where Snape outright denied Harry’s potion, he brought this up with Draco.

“Ab—Draco, tell me, how is it that a man with such clear bias even is a professor here at Hogwarts?” he asked. “He has shown nothing but blatant disrespect towards Harry and the rest of the lions, and yet ignores Crabbe and Goyle and their stupidity.”

“That is how he is,” Draco said. “He’s been teaching Potions for thirteen years, though everyone knows that it is Defense Against the Dark Arts he really wants.”

“Really?” Tom asked, “Interesting, however, how does that describe his behavior?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Draco said, frowning slightly. “I hate that he treats Harry badly too, but what can we do?”

Tom’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he stared at Malfoy. He didn’t know Malfoy’s feelings towards Harry. Though he barely even began to make the boy his, he had only kissed his cheek, in Tom’s eyes, the young Gryffindor was already his. And he would not allow anyone else to get near his experiment. He did not even begin peeling back the boy’s masks. “Why don’t you talk with Harry openly?” he asked carefully, “I notice that you and the others treat him and his differently.”

“That is by design, though we all hate it,” Draco frowned. “If you ask me, he belongs with us in Slytherin. But because he is a Gryffindor, everyone will be suspicious if we hang out with him, and it would bring unneeded attention to all of us. Harry already has many masks, I’m afraid of how he will act if we act friendly with him openly.”

“I disagree, I am sure that he can handle it, if not appreciate it,” Tom said. “However, I have another question. What exactly is your relationship with Harry?”

Draco stopped. “My relationship?” he frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It seems that you are rather protective of the small teen,” Tom said. “I was just wondering if you and Harry are dating.”

“N-No, we are just friends,” Draco said, with a slight blush. “Besides, when I look at him, especially when we paint, it’s not exactly romantic feelings I’m having if that makes sense. Why do you even want to know, anyway?” he demanded.

“I told you before,” Tom smirked. “I find him attractive.”

“And I told you before, Riddle, that if you try to hurt him, I will hurt you,” Draco countered. Tom chuckled and stopped to turn towards Draco fully.

“So I take it then that I have your blessing?” he asked.

Draco gawked at him and Tom’s smirk grew. “I promise you Draco, that I have no ill feelings or intentions with Harry,” he said.

Draco’s gawking shock turned into a glare that Tom did not flinch from. The Malfoy heir crossed his arms and said, “Fine, if it has to be anyway, then I guess I rather it be you,” he muttered. “You’re the only other gay person I know around here.”

“Really? It is just the three of us?” Tom asked, “I find that hard to believe.”

Draco looked away, his cheeks turning red, “I mean obviously there’s someone who I hope is like us, but I don’t know if he is. Bah, why am I even telling you? Come on, I’m hungry and I don’t want to miss lunch!” Tom smirked as he watched the young Malfoy heir walk away. _He is so fun to mess with, just like Abraxas,_ Tom thought before following Draco.

The Great Hall was abuzz with the latest rumors and talk as usual. It was filled more than usual because of the additional students from the two schools, which Tom did not mind. The students from Durmstrang have decided to sit with Slytherin. They stayed at one end of the table, while Tom sat with the rest of the fourth year Slytherins, however his eyes were on Harry.

His Harry, innocent yet covered by masks, was sitting with his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Tom had time to observe them during class. Weasley was a jokester mainly, a painfully average student who thinks more with muscles than the brain in his head while Hermione Granger was the complete opposite. Smart, deductive, and very inquisitive. Tom knew he would have to be careful around the two of them for different reasons. Still, he had a plan to get on both of their good sides eventually as he slowly stole his boy away. Speaking of, he thought that he should start that plan. After all, he and Harry did promise to speak with Granger today.

Without touching his food, Tom stood up, earning the attention of everyone around him. “Where are you going?” Blaise asked.

“To speak with Potter,” Tom said simply. He walked with confidence and grace, going down the Slytherin table and across the hall. When he reached the Gryffindor table, he still held himself with grace and walked with equal footing until he reached Harry and his two friends. One of which, Ron Weasley, was making a point to ignore Harry while the other, Hermione, had to sit between the two of them. “Harry, it has been a while,” Tom smiled.

“T-Tom! What are you doing here?” Harry asked, and Tom just smiled amused as he saw his boy’s masks fall momentarily before being set right. Oh how he will enjoy breaking the boy down and building him up with pleasure, but that will come later. No, instead he just stared at Harry as he said, “We promised to speak today, don’t you remember? About the books.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, a blush growing. He looked at Hermione and said, “Uh Hermione… this is a uh new friend of mine… Tom.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Tom said, “it is a pleasure to meet you outside of class, Hermione Granger.”

“Oh uh, it’s good to meet you too… everyone’s been talking about you,” Hermione said.

“Yeah about how you’re a slimly Slytherin,” Ron muttered. Tom chose to ignore that.

“I am sure that the rumors about me are much more amusing than my actual life,” he smiled. “Harry and I actually have a question for you, if I may.”

“What’s up?”

“You see, yesterday I have been perusing the library, searching for a certain book, only to see that not only does the library not have it, but it doesn’t have any books by muggle authors in general!” Tom said, acting as though this was the greatest tragedy. “I was hoping that you would know of a place where I might get my fill. I would ask my fellow Slytherins, however, I have a feeling if I speak to them of Dickens, Shelly, Stoker, and Poe… I would only get confused faces. Especially if I mention Lord Byron or Mother Radcliffe!”

Harry stared at Tom, confused. He was sure he heard one of those names before but could not place it, seeing Harry’s confusion, Tom smiled, “They are all authors, darling,” he said. “I told you, Harry, I am very peculiar towards the gothic genre, although I do spread out when the mood fancies.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

Hermione looked excited at the prospect to talk books with someone else. “I know for a fact that Flourish and Blotts have a muggle section filled with many various authors. If they do not have it in stock, I am sure that you can order a book specifically and have them go get it, for a price, unfortunately. What book are you looking for?”

“Right now, I would like to see about collecting the works of Poe,” Tom said.

“Oh, I haven’t read his stuff,” Hermione said, “I’m not that much a fan of horror.”

“It is not horror, it is a gothic love of the macabre and strange,” Tom smiled. “Besides, I am also looking for Leroux’s book as well.”

“Leroux? I’ve heard of him,” Hermione said. Tom smiled, “I have always wanted to read his story fully. My uncle had a copy of his most famous novel; however, my mother threw it in the fire in a rage two years ago.”

“That’s horrible, hopefully, Flourish and Blotts has what you are looking for,” Hermione said.

“Hopefully,” Tom smiled. “Then, I suppose I have a letter to write. Harry, darling, may I use your owl?”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Harry said. He stood up and did his best to ignore the stares as they walked out.

As soon as they were out, Tom said, “You really need to work on your mask for me. Although, it is fun to see you flounder for a moment. You don’t mind, do you?”

“About using Hedwig? Not at all,” Harry said.

“No, I mean about calling you darling,” Tom said, smiling. “It just sort of popped into my head, and it seemed the perfect way to describe you, Harry.” He took his chance and kissed Harry’s cheek, “I’ll stop if you want me to, darling,” he whispered.

“N-No, it’s fine,” Harry said, blushing. He did not know why he was allowing Tom to affect him like this. Everything about the boy thrown him off balance. Tom smiled widely, akin to a predator eyeing his prey than a friend, and took a step forward. “Excellent,” he purred. “Then let’s go, _darling_ , I would rather get the letter over with.”

The two quickly made their way to the owlery and Harry watched as Tom wrote his letter. His cheek felt a little rosy, and when Harry touched where Tom’s lips were only a few minutes earlier, he could not help but smile. _Is this me or my mask?_ He wondered as he watched. _These feelings for Tom… I should put them in my mask for him._ He was pulled from these thoughts as Hedwig flew down towards him, nipping at him affectionately. He gave her treats and told her to get Tom’s letter to Flourish and Blotts as quickly as she can. Tom tied the letter to her and the two watched her fly away.

“Harry?” Tom said as they climbed down the stairs, “I always wanted to know something.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“We are friends, well, more than friends I hope,” Tom said, kissing Harry’s cheek.

“Yeah, we are,” Harry breathed.

“And you are friends with Malfoy, Zabini, and Theo, are you not? As well as a common sight in the Slytherin common room,” Tom continued.

“I am,” Harry nodded.

“Then, my darling, why is it that you act differently towards your friends in the open?” Tom asked. Harry froze on the stairs. Tom took a couple steps further down before looking up at him with a raised eyebrow and an expectant gaze. “Is it because of your masks?”

“I…” Harry said. “I don’t want to.” He sounded small and vulnerable; the complete opposite of what Tom has seen in the Great Hall when he was with his friends. He wanted to grab the boy, to hold him close and whisper promises of ownership but kept them to himself. He just watched his boy as Harry worked his thoughts out. “I don’t want to act different, I didn’t mean to but the others—Ron, Hermione, and the other Gryffindors. Hell the rest of the school. If they know, if they find out… I’ll collapse.”

Tom finally took those steps and grabbed Harry’s hands, pulling the smaller teen to his chest as he wrapped his arms around him. “Then collapse, Harry,” he whispered. “Collapse, and when you do, I will build you back up myself, piece by piece.”

Harry stiffened at those words. He looked up at Tom, feeling lost. “You want me to collapse?” he asked.

“No, but if you do, I will be there, my darling, to pick up your pieces,” Tom said, sealing his promise with another kiss to his cheek. Harry felt comforted by those words and yet something knotted inside him. He took a small step away, Tom tightening his grip for only a moment before letting the teen slip away.

“I need to go paint,” Harry whispered. “I’ll talk with you later.”

“Of course,” Tom nodded. He watched his obsession go and sighed to himself. “You really do belong in Slytherin, my Harry,” he said, speaking to himself. “I have to admit, I am surprised at my feelings, however, I cannot seem to get rid of my obsession over you. … There is still time, perhaps I’ll go and learn whatever I can about Voldemort.” With that in mind, Tom descended the stairs.

In the library, Tom easily found books regarding the rise and fall of Dark Lords and decided to sit with a group of Durmstrang students who all reeked of the Dark Arts. The foreign students looked at him curiously as he sat down, but one look from the tall fourteen-year-old kept them from complaining. Instead, as he read he asked them questions about their school and how they all learn the Dark Arts. By the time the students had to go back to their ship, Tom exited the library satisfied and with a couple of new friends from whom he can call on when needed.

Days went by, and Harry assumed that Tom’s mood increased because a week after he sent his letter, Harry saw a very large package arrive, carried by two owls, for Tom. He still did not know how to answer Tom’s question, or even what his relationship to the Slytherin could be defined. Whenever he was around the boy, he felt vulnerable, weak, like he was just easily malleable in Tom’s hands, and he loved the feeling. It was comforting whenever the two were alone, it was right whenever Tom kissed his cheek, which he did often both in the corridors and in the Slytherin Common Room. They still have not done anything in the open, but Harry found that for the first time he didn’t feel afraid.

That was, until, on November thirteenth where Harry found himself walking out of Professor Snape’s class because of the Triwizard Tournament. He entered a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman, the man behind the Triwizard Tournament, was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before.

Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. Harry stood awkwardly with his face totally emotionless. _The Coward? The Lion? The Hero? The Fourth Champion? The Lonely? The Scared? The Heroic? The Excited?_

_Tom’s…_

He shuffled through the masks, his brain hurting as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to act. Was he supposed to be confident? Unsure? Sympathetic? Will the three other champions still be hating him? Before he could even react, however, Bagman jumped up and bounced forward at the sight of him.

“Harry Potter! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come! Nothing to worry about, it’s just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment.”

“Wand weighing?” Harry asked.

“Yes Harry, we have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know. The expert’s upstairs with Dumbledore. And then there’s going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter,” Bagman added, gesturing toward the witch. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet.”

“Maybe not _that_ small, Ludo,” Rita Skeeter said, her eyes on Harry. “I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?” she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. “The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?”

“Certainly!” Bagman cried. “That is—if Harry has no objections?”

“No—“Harry said.

“Lovely,” Skeeter said, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry’s upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room and opening a nearby door. Harry ignored her as he worked through his panic, his face still emotionless as he worried inwardly. He had to pick a mask and pick one quick, but he didn’t know which one would work with her the best! His usual emotionless expression will not work. The room was a broom cupboard and they squeezed in, Skeeter pushing Harry down onto a cardboard box as she closed the door.

“You won’t mind, Harry, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally.…” she said as she opened her crocodile-skin bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate. She placed the quill after sucking the tip onto the parchment and it stood upright, quivering slightly.

She cleared her throat and tested the quill, which wrote an exaggerated version of what she said. “Lovely,” she smiled, finally looking at Harry. “So, Harry, what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

 _Denial._ “I didn’t,” he said, as he was distracted by the quill. Even though he only said two words, the quill was writing up a storm.

**_An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes—_ **

“Ignore the quill, Harry,” Rita Skeeter said firmly. Reluctantly, he looked up at her instead. “Now—why did you enter the tournament, Harry?”

“I didn’t,” Harry insisted. “I did not put my name into the Goblet of Fire, I do not know how my name got into it.”

Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow. “Come now, harry, there’s no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel.”

 _I’m not a rebel,_ Harry thought. Denial wasn’t working, and yet Harry refused to accept what has happened. He knew that Skeeter would want him to act that, to act the cocky rebel, the arrogant Gryffindor and yet, he could not find himself able to meet her expectations. He just sat there in a sort of daze as she continued on.

“How do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous?” she asked.

“Yeah, nervous, I suppose,” Harry said, his nerves coming from his indecision on how to respond instead of the actual tasks. This was not like how it was with Tom. With Tom, he always felt safe in this lostness, comforted by his voice. Skeeter, however, eyed him like a predator ready to rip her prey to shreds and write an exposé about it.

“Champions have died in the past, haven’t they?” Skeeter said briskly, “Have you thought about that at all?”

“They said that it’s going to be a lot safer this year,” Harry said, he could feel he is so close to how he is supposed to react, how to respond to all of his. He could feel his masks rotating, swiping across his face, fighting on how Harry should react.

“Of course, you’ve looked death in the face before, haven’t you?” Rita Skeeter said, watching him closely. “How would you say that’s affected you?”

“No.”

“Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because—”

“No,” Harry said louder, standing up as his masks stopped spinning. “No,” he said again. “I did not enter, Ms. Skeeter! Why is it that when I say that, you adults refuse to believe me!” his voice was rising, growing more and more furious. “I keep telling everybody, I did not enter the competition! I did not want to enter the competition! And do you adults believe me? Fuck no! You make up your own narratives, decide whatever sounds good for you, and just run with it! Dumbledore, Karkaroff, fuck even Madame Maxine could have done something, anything, to break this stupid binding thing tying me to the Goblet, and maybe they could use common sense to see that a FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD CANNOT OUTSMART ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! But no, apparently every single adult here is FUCKING STUPID and there are no failsafe to break a magical contract with a bloody cup!” Skeeter smiled wildly, reminding Harry of whenever Dudley saw a cake, and before she could react, he snatched both the quill and parchment and, with one strong tear, ripped them both in half. “So don’t ask me again why I entered the competition, you disgusting gargoyle, and instead maybe grow a brain and ask how a fourteen-year-old with no interest in getting killed this year somehow outsmart not only Dumbledore but apparently the whole Department of Magical Games and Sports!”

Still enraged, Harry kicked open the door and stomped out. Skeeter followed him, that predatory smile still plastered on her face.

 _Anger. Anger chose to stay. My mask was anger. What have I done?_ Harry mentally calmed himself, and though his face ached as the rush of emotions still swirled inside him, he forced everything about himself to look neutral as he walked into the small classroom once more.

“Rita! That was fast,” Bagman said happily, “Got everything, I hope!”

“Oh it was absolutely fabulous,” Skeeter said, smiling fully and showing gold teeth. Harry just stalked to a corner and stood there, forcing himself to calm down mentally as he closed his eyes and equalized his breathing. At some point, Dumbledore arrived with the other headmasters of the two schools and Mr. Crouch, the fifth judge, as well as Ollivander, the man who sold Harry his wand when he was eleven. Still, in his enraged state, Harry only half-listened as the Wand Weighing ceremony went on. Of course, Harry was last, and Mr. Ollivander spent more time with his wand than any other. Harry was only half-happy to get the man’s approval and was fully glad to leave when Bagman jumped up and called for photos. It was torturous, and Harry was just all too happy to leave—only to stop immediately.

“There you are, Darling,” Tom smiled. “I was worried about you.” Tom Riddle was waiting right outside, leaning against the wall with a book in his hand. “How was the wand weighing?”

Harry quickly made his way towards Tom, his cheeks turning rosy, as he glanced around. “Horrible,” he said in a low tone as everyone else started to exit the room. Professor Dumbledore stopped when he saw the two and smiled softly. “Ah, Mr. Riddle, I see that you and Harry are on friendly terms,” he said.

“Yes, Harry has been very helpful with getting me adjusted here,” Tom said politely, “right Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, smiling as well. “Tom’s also helping me with studying.”

“Well, I am happy that the two of you are getting along,” Dumbledore said, his eyes watching Tom for a second too long. “I will see you both at dinner then, boys.” He gave them a nod and walked off.

Harry sighed and found himself leaning towards Tom. “How do you feel?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need to go paint?” Tom asked gently. Harry looked up at him and found himself shaking his head.

“Not now,” he said. “but I want to be someplace where we can be alone so we can talk.”

Tom hummed and placed his book in his bag. He glanced at Harry hesitantly and said, “There is one place where we can both be alone, truly alone, where no one else can find us, but I do not know if I should ask if I can take you there.”

“What? Where are you talking about?” Harry asked, curious.

Tom glanced at him. “It is just, we have only known each other, really, for only a couple of weeks, my Darling. If we go to this place, we can drop our pretenses, talk honestly, and I can prove to you my background. Eliminate any and all doubt that might still be in your mind, conscious or no. After all, you say that I look like Voldemort, that he and I have the same name. I will be honest with you, I have thought about starting to use that name, however that was the day before I arrived here. I will tell you that story, but only in one place, if you will trust me.”

Harry did trust him. Tom was right that they have only known each other for a short time however in that short time, Harry found that he has built a trust in the teenage boy, a trust and a curiosity onto how he could see through his mask. He glanced around and kissed Tom’s cheek, interlocking his fingers with Tom. “Just tell me Tom, and I will go,” he promised.

Tom squeezed Harry’s hand and purred seductively, “Then please Harry, would you bring me to the Chamber of Secrets?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry you gone dun did an angry. Also: MASQUERADE! Pretty faces on parade! Masquerade!


	5. In the Chamber

Chapter 5

In the Chamber

Harry agreed to bring Tom to the Chamber of Secrets immediately. The two did not even think about dinner as they walked down the corridor, following the others. However, as they went further down the marble staircase in the distance, Harry stopped Tom on the second floor and led him down the corridor towards the girl’s bathroom. They stopped right outside, and Harry peaked in. “Good, Myrtle’s not there,” he said.

Myrtle? Tom wondered, the name sounding vaguely familiar. The two walked into the bathroom and Tom allowed his feet to carry him automatically to the sink he discovered what felt like only weeks ago. He barely looked at the snake inscribed into the tap as he said, _“Open.”_

The sinks all vibrated and moved, sinking into the floor underneath to reveal a large entrance like an open pipe. Harry sighed and took a step towards it but Tom stopped him. “What are you doing, darling? It’s not done yet,” he chuckled. He looked at the open tube and said, _“Stairway.”_

The large pipe shifted, pushing into itself as ridges appeared, forming steep steps with a banister on either side. Harry stared in shock and Tom smirked at his expression. “What?” Tom said, “You think I actually slid down when I found it?”

“Y-Yes,” Harry muttered, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment or jealousy Tom could not tell. Tom gave a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Darling, there is so much you’ll need to learn,” he said, and he began to descend down the staircase, Harry just behind him. The steps were steep but not dangerous. Lanterns lit their path with a green flame, each illuminating as they pass, basking the two boys in a soft green glow. There was no strange smell as they walked down. Harry expected to enter the sewer where the floor was covered with tiny, crunched bones. However, as the steps ended, Harry was shocked to see that instead of bones, they entered into the Chamber of Secrets proper.

The Chamber was long with tall pillars holding up the ceiling, each with ornate snakes carved into them with emeralds for eyes. At the end of the Chamber was a statue of Salazar Slytherin, at the foot of which was a small pool from which the body of the Basilisk laid.

Tom stopped at the sight of it and he squeezed Harry’s hand. The Basilisk was tall, almost twenty feet, and it looked almost sad. The body was still perfectly conserved. “So it’s true,” Tom whispered. He stepped forward, his hand finally slipping from Harry’s as he walked up to the Basilisk. He pressed his hand against the cold scales and sighed. There was a strange feeling in his chest that he could not describe. “I feel… sad?” he said questionably. “It is strange. It feels like only yesterday I have seen her for the first time. I had so much I wanted to do. I wanted to study her, ask her about everything she knew about the Chamber, about Slytherin, and his study.” He gave a sigh and stared at the Basilisk almost longingly.

Harry to be cautious step forward and pressed his hand against the cold scales next to Tom, frowning. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Tom shook his head. “Tell me,” he said softly but it was still a command.

“It was in my second year,” Harry began, and he told Tom everything. “Mr. Malfoy gave Ginny, Ron Weasley’s sister, a diary. It was Tom Riddle’s—Voldemort’s diary. Somehow, it had uh him inside it, a sixteen-year-old version of him.”

“Had an older version of myself in my diary?” Tom interrupted. He frowned, “Strange, I do not think such magic even existed. I’m sorry, continue.”

Harry nodded and continued his tale. He told Tom about the diary, about the incompetent Professor Lockhart and the mystery of the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets and who the Heir of Slytherin was. “Students were being petrified,” he said. “Voldemort was using Ginny to release the Basilisk, but every time it hunted, its prey only saw it in reflections. In the end, I had to go to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron and Professor Lockhart. Voldemort brought Ginny down here, he tried to absorb her soul or something to come back to life. Lockhart… he tried to obliviate Ron and me but failed, and I had to go and fight both the diary and basilisk. I killed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor, which I pulled out of the Sorting Hat that Fawkes the Phoenix brought to me, and for the Diary and Voldemort, I destroyed it with a Basilisk fang.”

“I see,” Tom sighed. He looked once more at the Basilisk. “Thank you for telling me, my darling.” He shook his head and said, “There is something that I wish to share with you now, as well as find someplace much more comfortable for us to sit and talk.”

He took Harry’s hand once more and pulled him to the left side of the chamber. There was a door there. A simple wooden door that Harry did not notice the first and only time he went down here. He wondered if it was locked behind magic, but it opened easily to Tom’s touch and the Slytherin Heir pulled Harry in.

The study was about the size of the Slytherin common room. It had high walls with banisters of greens and silvers, as well as a very large portrait of Salazar Slytherin who was sleeping in the chair, a snake curled around his legs also asleep. Bookshelves covered the walls, and there were a few windows enchanted to show different landscapes and weather. On the right was a window showing snowy mountains while the left showed the evening sky over Hogwarts grounds. There were comfortable looking leather sofas with tables and a wide fireplace. Tom pulled Harry to the sofa and set him down. “Stay there, Darling,” Tom purred as he went to the bookshelves. He did not need to hope that the book would be there, he had a sick feeling.

On the bottom row, closest to the portrait, looking as though it was crammed in, it sat. Slytherin’s research. The book that Tom found and pulled out. It looked older, the already ancient pages looking more fragile than Tom’s copy. He took great care pulling it out and pulled out his own as well as he returned to the sofa with Harry. He did not even presume to keep some space between them. He pressed his legs against Harry and placed both books in front of them and turned to the same page in both.

They had the same words, the same penmanship, and the same illustrations. Tom breathed deeply as he glanced at Harry. “I told you before, that when I visited the Chamber of Secrets, I pulled from it a book. Slytherin’s book. These are his notes, his research into Parsel-magic, and as we can see later on…” he flipped towards the end of the pages where the handwriting changed, “his descendants continued their research. There is only one copy of this book in existence, Harry. And here, somehow, we have two.”

“How is this possible?” Harry asked.

“Like I’ve been telling you, but now I can see this as a final confirmation, I am from a different time. Fifty years in the past,” Tom said, frowning. “But a different past? A past that does not involve your Voldemort.” He looked at Harry. “Do you believe me, Darling?”

Harry was silent for some time. He stared at the two books in front of him, as if studying the two intensely. Tom allowed him this moment of silence, knowing how far-fetched and ludicrous this situation sounds. The boy leaned back after some time and nodded.

“I believe you, Tom,” he said with such a genuineness that Tom believed that at that moment he saw his boy, his beautiful Harry, without his masks. Tom kissed Harry’s cheek. “Thank you, Harry,” he said.

Harry blushed and smiled at the two books. “Now,” Tom said, “we are alone, and have the little time misplacement out of the way. Tell me what troubled you with the wand weighing, my darling.”

Harry jumped slightly, in all of his, he almost forgot what happened. Shame and anger filled him, and he found himself sifting through his masks in order to hide them, but under Tom’s eyes, both knew that it was useless.

“You feel shame, Harry? Anger? What happened?” Tom asked. _“Tell me, my sweet Darling,”_ he hissed possessively.

Harry shivered at the parseltongue and leaned towards Tom who wrapped an arm around him. “I lost my temper, and my masks for a moment,” Harry admitted. “This woman, Rita Skeeter, she insisted on an interview and even though I said no, Bagman and he thought I agreed. She pulled me into a broom closet and, well, she just never listened. I tried denying it, I was emotionless but everything she did irritate me. Like she already had an idea of who I am! And then, in the end, I just exploded.”

“Did you hurt her?” Tom asked.

“No,” Harry said darkly, “but I wish I had.”

“You’ve shown restraint, which is good,” Tom hummed. “However, we will rise above this Darling. No doubt, tomorrow will feature a very long and fictitious story about you. Use your masks Harry, but if it becomes too much, run to me. I will protect you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “There’s one more thing,” Harry said. “Do you know about my godfather?”

“Blaise and Theo told me only what Draco has told them,” Tom said. “He is Sirius Black, correct? A man unrightfully charged for murder.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I’ve written him a letter about all of this—though I didn’t mention you! I did not know if, if you would be alright with me telling him about you.”

“Oh?” Tom said, amused, “And what about me?”

Harry’s cheeks redden in response and Tom kissed them. “Tell him whatever you think is good, Darling,” Tom whispered. “Now, I think we should head to dinner before people get suspicious about the evil Slytherin taking the noble lion.”

 _Even though you are already mine, Harry,_ Tom thought with a smile. Harry agreed and the two left the Chamber of Secrets. Later that night, Harry received his reply from his letter to Sirius, telling him to be alone at the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning of the 22nd of November. He told Tom this right away as Tom continued to study Slytherin’s notes.

As expected a few days after their time in the Chamber of Secrets, Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn’t been mentioned at all.

Harry ripped the article to pieces when he first saw it and retreated to the painting room with Draco, using the scraps of paper to create a mask. It was distorted, almost violently so, with Skeeter’s words jumping out against the splattering of colors. _“I get my strength from my parents. I know they’d be very proud of me if they could see me now.” “I still cry about them.” “Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger.”_

The last one hurt, not because it wasn’t true, Harry and Hermione did spend a lot of time together, but because he didn’t want Skeeter’s vicious words to reach anyone else. But even then, Harry knew that was a lie for while he did spend most of his time with Hermione now that Ron wasn’t speaking to him, he spent an equal amount, if not more, with Tom, whom the article did not mention at all thankfully.

For some reason, the Slytherins did not use the article as a way to bully him. In fact, the day after the article came out, the Slytherins who weren’t his friends all stared at him fearfully. He had a sneaking suspicion that Tom was responsible for that.

Of course, he was right.

On the day the article came out, Tom seethed. He was with Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini whom he was becoming good friends with in the Slytherin common room. There was a loud laugh from a group of seventh years and Tom paid it no mind until someone yelled out, “Can you believe this? Potter in love with a mudblood! And we let him in here! And listen to this, he still cries about his dead mummy and daddy!” The ugly laughter followed and Tom felt his muscles convulse with a need he did not have in some time.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood up, Draco standing up a second later. “Draco, allow me,” Tom said simply, leaving no room for argument as he went over towards the seventh years. He did not know their names, nor did he really care. All he knew was that they were insulting his boy, and he will not stand for that.

“Excuse me,” he said, getting their attention.

“What Riddle?”

“I was just wondering which one of you have been… speaking about Potter?” Tom said smoothly, “it was rather funny.”

“That was Lucian,” one said, grinning at a rather tall Slytherin with yellow hair. “Eh, Bole? Oh, do the crying impression!”

Lucian Bole smirked and cleared his throat. He spoke in a mocking cry as he said, “Sometimes at night I still cry about them, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament because they’re watching over me.” The group all fell into laughter, all oblivious to Tom pulling out his wand.

“I see. _Incarcerous!”_ Rope burst from Tom’s wand and in a second, Lucian Bole was on the floor, bound. The other seventh years all jumped away, gasping before fumbling for their wands, which Tom easily disarmed. “I am quite sorry, but I cannot allow anyone to speak ill of my boy,” Tom said, his wand held loosely, as though it was about to fall at any moment. “However,” his voice started to get a cold air to it, “I shall be merciful. Instead of punishing all, I shall only punish Lucian Bole. I’ve been researching a spell, one of Slytherin’s design, and you shall test it out for me.”

An arrogant glint shone through the seventh year. “Oh really?” Bole said, “I’ll like to see you try.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Tom chuckled. “It is a simple spell.” He waved his wand and hissed out in Parseltongue, _“Serpents of Flame, come burn my foe.”_ A snake appeared. It was red and hazy looking, as though smoke slithered with its embers as fire engulfed it. Everything it touched smoked and even the air around it seemed to smolder and burn as the heat intensified. The students around them shrieked in terror but Tom paid them no mind. He just silently directed the snake towards Bole.

It started at his feet, wrapping around in between the ropes. The teen screamed immediately but the clothes did not catch fire. Instead, the spell was created so that the victim would feel intense pain as though thrown into a roaring fire without leaving any marks or burns. The snake continued to wrap around Bole, seemingly growing with every scream.

“Tom,” Draco said, his skin deathly pale. “Tom that’s enough. Stop.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Tom said, watching in fascination. “He has yet learned his lesson.” The snake now reached Bole’s waist.

“Riddle I have—please!” he begged in between screams, his face was soaked and red with sweat and tears.

“Riddle!” Blaise said, “Stop!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Tom sneered. _“Bigger!”_ The snake started to expand in size.

“I will tell Harry!” Draco yelled. Tom and the snake froze. He turned to face Draco. “I will tell Harry that you are too dangerous for him.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I will unless you stop this right now,” Draco said, finding courage from somewhere Tom could not see. A nasty sneer spread across Tom’s face. He looked at the snake which stayed wrapped around Bole’s legs. Malfoy would dare tell his darling, his boy, that Tom was too dangerous? No, he couldn’t risk it.

“Fine,” he said simply, and with a wave, he dismissed both ropes and snake. He pointed his wand at Bole, who was still crying in pain. _“Heal.”_ He said in Parseltongue, and the pain disappeared. “I may have gotten overzealous; however I will not apologize. I’ve healed him, there should be no pain, and he can walk around as normal.”

Draco did not look pleased or convinced. Instead, he sighed and shook his head. “I will be watching you closely,” he muttered. “I am serious Riddle, if you even try to hurt Harry, I’ll end you.”

“I told you before, I will never do anything to harm Harry,” Tom replied, “but we will keep this… incident between us.” _And any punishment shall have to be outside of Malfoy’s view,_ he added mentally. _Just until he learns._

“Very well,” Draco said, though he still glared at Tom. His eyes shifted, “Get up Bole, nothing happened.”

“Malfoy—”

“Nothing happened. Besides you all should know better than believe Skeeter’s writing,” Draco said. The Slytherins left it at that and, as promised, Harry never learned of this incident. Instead, Tom and Draco allowed him to focus on much more important matters: such as the Triwizard Tournament. November was swiftly coming to an end, and with it came the First Task which would be on November 24th.

It was currently November 22nd, and Harry ran around looking for Tom. Without a word, Tom understood completely after seeing Harry’s worried look and they both made their way down to the Chamber of Secrets after classes.

“Dragons! They’re putting us up against Dragons!” Harry said as soon as the door to the study closed. The portrait of Salazar Slytherin was now awake and watched the two silently. “Hagrid brought me to them last night, I saw them as did Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.”

“No doubt telling their champions,” Tom drawled. “I’m guessing the first task is supposed to be a secret?”

“Yes, but I told Cedric,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Tom said. “I would hate for Hogwarts to be given a disadvantage. Now, what will we do for your dragon?”

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “Professor Moody caught me as I told Cedric. He asked me my strengths and all I thought about was flying.”

“Summoning charm then, to summon your broom?” Tom suggested. “Or, something more… personal,” he chuckled.

Harry frowned, “How did you know?” he said slowly before shaking his head. “I’ve thought about asking both you and Hermione to help me prepare.”

Tom chuckled, “Wanting to add fuel to Skeeter’s ridiculous claims?”

“No!” Harry said a little too quickly. He blushed and said “No,” much more calmer. “It’s just, you two are the first people I thought of with helping me. Hermione and I, we agreed to Summoning Charm. To summon my broom, but…”

“You want to hear what I think,” Tom hummed. Harry nodded. Tom thought for a moment and brought out Slytherin’s book. “It is a good idea, however, it is entirely reckless if flying is your own plan. So, I would suggest you use something that none of the other Champions have: Parsel-Magic.”

“You want me to speak Parseltongue?” Harry asked.

“Yes, do you object?” Tom asked.

Harry hesitated. He looked around as though he felt thousands of eyes all staring at him. Using Parsel-Magic, that wasn’t how he was supposed to act. He had no mask for it, no way of being. It would be easy, yes, and learning it would mean more time with Tom but… what would everyone think? How would everyone react? But still, he could not say no to Tom. It was almost impossible, not that he ever wanted. November has been hectic, as though a year in one month, and yet during the turmoil there always was Tom. Tom with his sweet words, Tom with his soft kisses. So he nodded. “As a last resort.”

“As a last resort,” Tom nodded. He smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek. “The theory is very simple and interesting, my Darling.” He pulled Harry down to sit on the leather couch. He opened Slytherin’s journal and explained briefly, “There are two ways to use Parsel-Magic. The first, and simpler way, is to simply say the spell in Parseltongue. Using the snake’s language, or any magical language intensifies the spell. For example…” he placed his notebook on the table in front of them and pointed his wand at it. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” he said in English and the notebook floated gently and slowly off the table, into the air, before landing softly. He aimed his wand again and hissed in Parseltongue, _“Wingardium Leviosa.”_ The book moved into the air again, this time faster, as though it was falling upside down and landed back onto the table with a soft thud. “You see?”

Harry nodded. “What else?” he asked.

“The second is spells created for Slytherin’s family. Spells that needed to be cast in Parseltongue.”

“Let me guess,” Harry said with a smile, “they’re all Dark Magic?”

“I mean there might be a healing spell here and there, as well as another more pleasurable spell created by Slytherin’s nephew,” Tom said, smirking at Harry’s confused look. “Any way to deal with the Dragon. Their hide is resistant to spells, as I have read. So, in the end, I feel that using Parsel-Magic will be beneficial. Even if it is just the first kind.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Yeah if I do use Parsel-Magic it’ll be the first kind. I don’t—I don’t think I’ll be comfortable showing everyone that other side of me.”

Tom nodded in understanding. He stood up and stretched, “In that case, I suggest we find Ms. Granger, we have a lot of practice to do.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He looked at Tom as he stood up and smiled, a sense of general relief filled him as he watched the boy walk towards the door. Relief that only lasted for a second before Harry found himself on his island once more, isolated by ocean waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We can never forget that Tom, though loving for his Darling, will not be afraid to use everything to attack those who would harm or insult his Harry.


	6. The First Task

Chapter 6

The First Task

Harry’s entire focus has been on practicing the Summoning Charm with Hermione and Tom. It was hard work in such little time. They stayed in an empty classroom where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room towards him. He was still having problems at times. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones to the floor.

“You must concentrate Harry,” Tom said.

“He’s right, you have to Concentrate.”

“What’d you think I’m trying to do?” Harry said angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason!” He realized what he said and immediately shook his head. “Okay, try again…”

Tom sighed and glanced at Hermione before pulling Harry to the side. _“Remember my mask,”_ he hissed softly in Parseltongue. _“Losing your nerve like this, getting angry, is a sure way of getting yourself killed, Darling.”_

 _“You try doing this,”_ Harry muttered angrily. _“You try perfecting a spell knowing you might get eating by a dragon tomorrow!”_

Tom Frowned and looked at the desks on the other side of the room. _“Accio!”_ he hissed in Parseltongue and an entire row of desks cam buzzing towards them, stopping just before they could crash into the two wizards. Hermione gave a small, shocked noise. “What was that?” she demanded.

“A lesson on how to keep your cool,” Tom said idly. “I know you can do this Harry, do not disappoint me.” He waved his wand and the desks all moved back. “Now, again.”

They practiced until after midnight. Harry wanted to continue further but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. The three left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch. Tom left them, giving Harry a knowing look as he separated to head to the Slytherin Common Room while Harry and Hermione made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

On the way, Harry’s thoughts were on his mask for Tom. He had ideas on it, small pictures of how he wanted it to be, but he did not start to actualize it. It involved Parseltongue, and an ease to speak it. It was something that he can relax in, something he can wear in order to be Tom’s Darling. Something that he can be sure to hide his deepest self from. A self that he only can see in his small moments of calm. He can almost picture it.

_A mirror right in front of me. That’s where I find, an empty glass reflecting the sad truth._

He shook his head and pulled himself from these thoughts. He needed to focus. Not only because the whole school expects him to fail, but because his friends expect him to succeed. They practiced until two in the morning. Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville’s toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm.

“That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted by very pleased.

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. I ought to make sure to tell Tom that, I’m sure he’ll be pleased. _Accio Dictionary!”_

The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.

“Harry, I think you’ve got it!” Hermione said delightedly.

“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said. “The Firebolt’s going to be much further away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Hermione said firmly. “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come. Harry, we’d better get some sleep … you’re going to need it.”

Harry just nodded; he didn’t know why he didn’t think of telling Hermione about the Parsel-Magic. Maybe because he was still scared to use it. Maybe because he was scared of Hermione’s reaction. Either way, he had a feeling he could do both now. His intended plan of summoning his broomstick, and if that doesn’t work, if he is left with no choice, he knew he had to be mentally prepared to put on Tom’s mask.

All the fear and anxiety that seemed to go away during practice came back the next morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons’ enclosure—though of course, they didn’t yet know what they would find there.

Harry felt separate from everyone’s excitement. People kept wishing him good luck or hissing that they have a box ready for him, and yet Harry found that he couldn’t react to any of it. It was as though on that day, he has forgotten his masks, forgotten them completely, and walked around in a neutral haze that looked to the untrained eye as extreme nerves.

After lunch, which seemed to come too quickly in Harry’s opinion, Harry found himself being escorted by Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall, out of the castle, and then down the path towards the enclosure where they kept the dragons, where, by now, a tent has been erected.

As usual, Harry found himself the last champion to arrive. The other three either sitting down or pacing nervously. When Harry entered, Cedric Diggory gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it.

Bagman was the only one cheery in the waiting area, jumping up when he saw Harry. Good-o! Come in! Come in! Make yourself at home!”

Harry did not see how that was possible. “Right, now that all of us are here, we can finally figure out what we’re doing!” Bagman grinned. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag”—he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them—“from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different—er—varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too—ah yes—your task is to collect the golden egg!”

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman’s words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green; Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn’t reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they open their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they at least volunteered at least.

Harry went to a corner and sat down, hanging his head as he listened to the crowd of students excitedly pass the tent to the stands constructed where they were going to face the dragons. He didn’t know how to feel, how to show himself. Harry the coward? Harry the brave? Gryffindor? Snake? Hero? Victim? Harry felt like his head was going to explode as he tried to decide which would be best—which would help him survive. Then, a voice next to him spoke up, scaring him. “Darling, why are you in a corner?”

Tom smirked at Harry’s shock. He closed the distance and kissed Harry’s cheek, “How are you feeling?” he asked, “Truthfully.”

“Nervous, like I’m about to face a ferocious dragon,” Harry muttered.

“Which you are, but remember our training,” Tom said. He glanced at Harry’s uniform and scoffed. “Here,” he said and begun to undo his tie, “take your tie off, and your robes! They’re not going to help with the dragon in any case.”

Harry did so immediately, standing in only his button-up shirt, with the top button unbuttoned, and black trousers where his wand was pocketed. Tom took off his tie and, without asking, fitted the tie on Harry, keeping the distance between them nonexistent as he made the Slytherin tie again so that it hung comfortably around Harry’s neck. “Perfect,” Tom smirked.

Harry looked down, confused, “Why did you give me your tie?” he asked.

“Two reasons, my darling,” Tom said simply, “one because I believe you look better in green and silver, and the second is that I hope this would help you put on your mask. Specifically your mask for me. I know you are still even working on it now, especially because I keep adding to it, but I hope that you find courage and power—”

Harry interrupted him by kissing Tom’s cheek. He smiled as he leaned back, wrapping his arms loosely around the taller teen. “Thank you,” he smiled.

“Think nothing of it,” Tom smirked. He looked to his left towards where the crowds were walking by and sighed. “I suppose I should go and join the masses? Remember Harry, you have a tool that no one else can use. Take advantage of that. I know you’ll make me proud.” He kissed Harry’s cheek and slipped away, taking Harry’s robes and tie with him. Harry stood, dazed for a moment before turning around, smiling.

If the others noticed, they did not say anything, perhaps too occupied with their own nerves and anticipation of facing a dragon to be concerned over Harry’s love life. In no time at all, Bagman returned, opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

“Ladies first—Harry, you’ve changed your tie,” he said, stopping to look at Harry for a moment before offering the bag to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon—a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right; Madam Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chine Fireball with the number three around its next. He didn’t even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Both knowing and dreading what was left, Harry pulled out the Hungarian Horntail with the number four hanging around its neck. The tiny dragon stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared minuscule fangs.

“Well, there you are!” Bagman said. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the number refers to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?”

He smiled and winked at them all before leaving the tent. Harry returned to his corner and sat down, staring at the model dragon that roared and walked in his hands and lap. He was going to be fine, he told himself. He knew what he was doing. He had a plan and his backup. He found his free hand moving to hold Tom’s tie. Just holding the other boy’s clothing filled Harry with a strange sort of courage, and he truly felt that he could handle the dragon.

Harry tried to wish Cedric luck as he walked past Harry towards the tent entrance looking greener than ever but found that he couldn’t form words. Harry heard the crowd roar and knew that Cedric has entered the enclosure. Now, all that was left was to wait.

It was worse than Harry imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed… yelled … gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past his dragon. Krum was staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric’s steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman’s commentary made everything much, much worse as horrible pictures flooded through Harry’s mind.

And then, fifteen minutes later, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past the dragon and captured the golden egg. “One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled, and Harry had to start the dreadful waiting all over again as Fleur went, followed by Krum twenty minutes later.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, alone in the tent Harry heard the whistle blow. It was his turn. His legs felt like they were marshmallows. He forced himself to step out of the tent, holding Tom’s tie in his hand to find strength. _Wear Tom’s mask, wear Tom’s mask,_ he thought to himself as he made the short trip to the enclosure.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from the stands that had been magicked there since he’d last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn’t know or care. He took a breath and, for a moment, felt his masks slip comfortably on. He knew what he had to do. He just had to survive until it comes.

He raised his wand into the air and focused on what he needed. _“Accio Firebolt!”_ he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying… if it hadn’t worked … if it wasn’t coming … no, he can’t think like that, it will work. He won’t be needed to use Parsel-Magic, even if Tom told him to, Harry still didn’t know if he could. Not in front of everyone.

He heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure. But he wasn’t the only one. There was a deadly roar and Harry screamed as he threw himself to the ground, an intense heat blasting just over him as the Hungarian Horntail let out a burst of flame. The fire ended and Harry looked up as a black mixture of soot and ash snow gently onto him. The Firebolt was nowhere in sight.

The crowd was making noises… Bagman was shouting something… but Harry’s ears were not working properly anymore. He saw the dragon crane her next, licks of flame seeping from her mouth. He knew he had a second and he rolled out of the way, hiding behind a rock as the Horntail let loose another burst of flame. But in that moment, Harry did not care. He was too heartbroken at the destruction of his Firebolt. His first gift from his godfather, Sirius Black. His most prized gift, given to him by his father’s best friend, gone in an instant. Sadness churned inside him, turning into a rage.

The flames stopped and Harry stepped away from the rock, his wand held high. _“Stupefy!”_ he screamed, but it wasn’t in English. In his rage, he screamed the spell, as loudly as he could, in Parseltongue. It was a chilling hiss that seemed to rise above the crowd. The Stunner that shot out of Harry’s wand wasn’t red but blue and it smashed into the Dragon’s neck. The Hungarian Horntail whipped her head around, trying to breathe fire once more, but only smoke came out.

Harry ran towards the dragon and remembered a spell that was beyond him normally that Mrs. Weasley used one time to summon water. Usually, Harry felt that he couldn’t do it, however in his enraged state over the loss of Sirius’s gift, he felt that he could do anything. _“Aquamenti!”_ he hissed out once more. Like a pressurized firehose, water burst out of his wand, Harry having to stop in his tacks to control the stream. It blasted the dragon’s face, water getting in her eyes and mouth, the dragon struggling to roar and see in front of her. She swung her tail wildly and Harry was forced to stop the spell as he rolled away, the tail making a gorge in the spot Harry stood only a second ago.

He used the Aquamenti spell once more to push the tail away. He started running towards the nest once more, his eyes staring murderously at the dragon. It was still over her nest where the golden egg waited. He needed her away. He jabbed his wand and hissed out the counter to the summoning charm. _“Depulso!”_ For a second he didn’t think it would work, but he was immediately proved wrong as he felt a massive force pushing from him, slamming into the dragon and the Hungarian Horntail rolled off of the nest. As if possessed, Harry continued to move his wand and hissed out something he hoped would work. He never tried the second type of Parsel-Magic; however, he knew that he would pull out miracles in life or death situations.

_“Slither out and bind my enemy to the ground!”_

The ground shook. Several small fissures opened and from them, thick dark green vines sprouted out. The vines twisted and weaved each other, thickening, and growing stronger as they looked like long green boney fingers that slammed around the dragon, holding her in place. The Horntail thrashed and struggled fruitlessly and with a last burst of adrenaline, Harry ran to the nest, picking up the golden egg.

Silence followed. Harry was exhausted, he was swaying with the golden egg held tightly under his arm. He looked up at the stands and saw the masses staring at him. Bagman cleared his throat and said loudly, “And with that magnificent display of magic—Harry Potter has gotten his egg! The youngest champion showing off the most fantastic of magic folks! Why even I did not recognize some of the spells he used!” Bagman’s voice seemed to snap the crowd from their daze and the enclosure exploded in noise.

The dragon keepers rushed forward to subdue the Horntail as it kept struggling in the vines. With it over, Harry looked down at himself to see the damage. His hair was smoking slightly from the near misses of fire, and he had scratches on his arms and face from when he had to roll. He kept to his feet as he turned to the judges, waiting for his score. Dumbledore stared down at him, a small frown on his face while Karkaroff and Madame Maxime stared at him neutrally, and Mr. Crouch had a thoughtful expression on his face. Only Bagman was smiling fully. The first judge, Madame Maxime, raised her wand, and a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

Mr. Crouch was next, he shot a nine into the air. Next came Dumbledore. He stared down at Harry before sighing, giving him a nine as well. The crowd was cheering.

Ludo Bagman gave him a ten. While Karkaroff only gave him a three. But Harry didn’t care, he was only happy to survive.

He looked at the opening of the enclosure and smiled as he saw Ron and Hermione waiting for him.

“Harry!” Hermione said when he reached them. “You were brilliant! You were amazing! I’m sorry for your broom but that magic—what was that?”

Harry, however, was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

“Harry,” he said very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet—I—I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”

It was as though the last few weeks had never happened—as though Harry was meeting Ron for the first time, right after he’d been made champion.

“Caught on, have you?” Harry said coldly as he allowed some of his masks to fall. “Took you long enough.”

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn’t need to hear it.

“It’s okay,” he said before Ron could get the words out. “Forget it.”

“No, I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Forget it,” Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.

Hermione burst into tears.

“Why are you crying?” Harry asked, “There’s nothing to cry about!”

“You two are so stupid!” she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground. Then before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

“Barking mad,” Ron muttered.

“Or she could be correct,” a smooth voice said, “The two of you are quite stupid, but I can forgive you for that, my Darling.” Tom stepped out from nowhere and smirked at the two of them. He ignored Ron for a moment as he stepped forward and kissed Harry’s cheek. “That was brilliant Parsel-Magic, Harry,” he praised. “I’m so proud! My sympathies for your broom, however.”

“Yeah Harry,” Ron frowned. “I’m sorry about your broom, I uh… knew it meant a lot for you, from Snuffles.” He glanced at Tom.

“Ah yes, Snuffles,” Tom repeated. “I am sure that Sirius Black will be forgiving to hear that the broomstick lost to a dragon.”

“You know—”

“Not now, Weasley,” Tom said, “I haven’t made up my mind about you.”

“HEY! I’m supposed to say that—”

“Guys!” Harry said, exhaustion from using so much magic finally catching up to him. “Can you please do your interrogations later? I need to lay down.”

“Of course,” Tom said. He took Harry’s arm and pulled him to the nearest seat, Madam Pomfrey rushing towards them and immediately taking charge. Harry was led to the first-aid tent which was sectioned off into cubicles. His wounds were treated and for a moment, it was just Tom and Harry inside. “There is something I want to ask you, my darling Harry,” Tom said. “Before your friends come in.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, he was exhausted, but at least he was off his feet now.

“Will you go on a date with me? To Hogsmeade,” Tom said.

Harry felt a shock of energy surge through him and he sat up, smiling widely. “Yes!” he said loudly before blushing. “Yes,” he said a bit softer. Tom kissed his cheek, smiling as well.

“Perfect,” he purred. “Then, I’ll talk to you tomorrow about when. Right now, you need rest.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry smiled.

Tom gave him a final kiss before walking away. His smile slipped away, revealing a scowl.

How dare they. How dare they bring him such joy! Such laughter! Tom saw the way Harry smiled at Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, the way they grinned and laughed. Showing pure emotions that weren’t from masks, that he never showed Tom! How easy those smiles were, how quickly Harry changed his moods! Why did those two… _people_ make his darling, _his boy_ , feel those ways!?

Tom would not stand for it. He needed to know about them, needed to know everything about them! He also needed them to know that Harry was his. That that hug, that spontaneous hug that boiled Tom’s blood, would never happen again. No, not ever again. But even then, Tom wondered if he was reacting too heavily? He knew Granger somewhat. He knew that what his boy and that girl had was completely platonic, ending at the friendship level. But Weasley?

Weasley however… Tom knew from an instant that the boy was one of them, as different as Harry, himself, and Malfoy. Would he be a threat to his relationship? Would Weasley get in the way, romance Harry for his own? Tom would never allow it, he should flay—no, no, Tom needs to calm down. It would not do to react without proper research. Ahead of him, he saw the Slytherins all leaving back towards the castle. Research, he will have to learn all about Ron Weasley, and then he can decide. Before that, however, Tom decided to share the good news with his friends.

Tom quickly caught up to Draco, Blaise, and Theo. “Hello boys,” he said cheerfully.

“You sound happy Riddle,” Blaise chuckled.

“Of course I am happy, my darling Harry won! And to celebrate, we are going to Hogsmeade on a date,” Tom smirked.

“What!” Draco yelled.

Tom smiled delectably at that. “Oh yes,” he said, “And Harry practically screamed ‘yes’ even though he was exhausted.”

“That’s… nice,” Draco said, though his voice sounded strain. Tom smirked and glanced around before whispering, “If you ever feel lonely, Draco, there’s always Harry’s friend, Weasley. It’s obvious he’s just like us.”

“Sod off! I would never be with him!” Draco scowled. “And don’t you dare suggest that again—or hurt Harry, Riddle.”

“I will never hurt him, Harry is alive because of me. Who do you think taught him Parsel-Magic?” Tom asked. Draco frowned at that.

“So that was Parseltongue he was speaking,” he said. “It sounded scary.”

“It can be,” Tom said. “But to summon those vines in the end! Even I did not teach him that. My boy is powerful, boys, very powerful…” _And of course, he belongs to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The First Task is done! But now there's a date! Will Tom ever learn to share?


	7. Celebrations

Chapter 7

Celebrations

Harry slept for three days after the First Task. He collapsed the second Tom left him at the infirmary tent and was transferred to the Hospital Wing immediately. Whispers and rumors spread about Harry’s condition, the teachers failing to quell them. Some said that Harry died, others said that he used so much magic he’s now a Squib while a few whispered that Slytherin poisoned him. Tom did not like the last one especially, but he stayed his hand. He needed to be by Harry whenever he could, he had to be there to take care of his boy. He never wanted to leave his boy, but Madam Pomfrey shooed him away to go to class. Not that it mattered for Tom always returned the second they were over.

When Harry woke, the first thing he saw was Tom. He felt weak, severely drained. As though a large heavyweight was sitting on top of him, squeezing every ounce of energy he had out like a toothpaste tube. Still, when he saw the blurry image of Tom, he smiled. “Morning,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

“Afternoon,” Tom corrected. “It is November 27th, three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” Harry blushed. He frowned, “The last thing I remember, I just closed my eyes for a second when you left me in the tent.”

“And you promptly fell asleep,” Tom chuckled. “I have to say, darling, that was an awfully long catnap you took.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said quickly, cutting Harry off. He placed a hand on his chest and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Madam Pomfrey told me, quite directly, to not agitate you when you wake up.”

“That is quite right, and you were to come to me the second Mr. Potter wakes up!” came the busy voice of Madam Pomfrey as she quickly shuffled towards them. Tom reluctantly pulled his hand away from Harry but did not move out of the way for Madam Pomfrey. “You’ve given us all quite a scare, Mr. Potter,” she said, “not to mention the lunacy to even use dragons in this tournament! Now, if you could sit up? Take it slow—you’ve used quite a bit of magic.”

Harry nodded and grunted as he forced himself to sit up against the bedframe. The pressure on him pushed back, rolling from his chest to settling on his stomach. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand around Harry, poking and prodding him with it before using her hands to examine him, focusing on his stomach and chest. She gave a worrisome hum and frowned. “What’s wrong?” Tom asked immediately.

“He’s used too much magic,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Nothing to be worried about. Harry here just needs to recuperate. Allow his core to build back up over time, that said Mr. Potter, that means no magic of any kind for at least a week.”

“A week!”

“Yes, and be happy I am just giving you that, and plenty of rest of course,” Madam Pomfrey said, “the more you rest, the faster your magical core can replenish itself. Harry frowned.

“But—”

“No excuses Mr. Potter, I have already told your professors and Headmaster Dumbledore about this,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Under no circumstances do I want to see you even _touch_ your wand for the next week! After which, I will give you a check-up to see how smoothly your recovery is. I honestly do not see what you were thinking! Summoning those vines like that, were they even vines? Why they moved like snakes!”

Harry blushed and glanced at Tom. The Slytherin’s eyes shone with pride however he kept a straight face. “Do not worry, I will personally make sure that Harry does not use magic.”

“Very well, however, I will still keep an eye on you, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“Is there anything else wrong?” Harry asked, clearing his throat. Tom immediately stood up and walked around to the side table to pour a drink of water. He gave it to Harry silently.

“Nothing else I could find is wrong,” Madam Pomfrey said, “besides the small scrapes you’ve sustained from the fight, the bigger issue was the depletion of your magic.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded after he took a long, slow sip. He frowned for a moment, “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

“Yes, however once again—under no circumstances will you use magic!” Madam Pomfrey stressed.

Tom and Harry agreed and reassured her that Harry won’t use any magic and as soon as they left the hospital wing, Harry pouted, too tired to even try to put on his masks. “No magic! Tom, can you believe it?”

“I do, Darling. Speak of, let me see your wand?” Tom said, holding a hand out casually.

“Yeah sure,” Harry nodded, and he pulled out his wand, handing it to Tom. Tom’s grip instantly tightened, and he pocketed it. “Hey!”

“You’ll get your wand back next week, darling, don’t pout,” Tom chuckled, kissing Harry’s cheek. “If for whatever reason you need a spell done, you’ll just ask me.” He smirked at Harry’s irritation.

“Bastard,” Harry muttered.

“You wound me, darling,” Tom chuckled. “But come on, I’m sure the Gryffindors will be ecstatic to see that you’re awake.”

Harry just hummed and looked around. “Um, can we take our time… going there?”

“Of course my darling,” Tom smiled. Their hands touched and fingers interlocked as they took a slow walk around the castle, Harry using the time to get the sleepiness away and his masks in order.

They walked around for an hour before Harry felt ready to return to Gryffindor Tower. He surprised Tom by pulling him all the way up to the seventh floor where the portrait of the Fat Lady waited. He said the password clearly so that Tom could hear, and the Fat Lady just stared at Harry for a moment. He said it again, and the portrait swung open. “Come on, please,” Harry muttered.

Tom smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek. “I’ll follow you inside, but I can’t stay, darling. I have to tell your other friends you’re alright.”

Harry’s cheeks blushed and he nodded. He took a step and his fingers left Tom’s. He hated that he had to do this, it hurt him, and he must know that it devastated Tom. He just looked back at his … boyfriend? Special friend? His Tom. Yes, his Tom and tried to offer a smile as one by one he felt his Gryffindor masks slip-on. They expected him to be strong, to be cocky and grinning after his win, and so he’ll play those parts. It was easier before, but now he found it a bit difficult. He just wanted to sleep, to just sit with both Ron and Hermione and talk nervously about his upcoming date with Tom and his feelings.

But instead, the Gryffindors insisted on having a party.

Ron and Hermione both had the golden egg that caused him to go into a long sleep for three days. Apparently, according to them, Mr. Bagman has told them why the egg was important after it became obvious that Harry wouldn’t wake up. “It’s a clue you see,” Ron told him “You see this part here?” he pointed to the top of the egg where there were hinges, “Apparently you just open it up and figure out the clue in it! It’ll tell you what the second task is and what you have to do.”

“As long as it isn’t dragons, I’m fine with anything,” Harry muttered. “When is the second task?”

“February twenty-fourth,” Hermione answered.

“Loads of them then,” Harry said, giving them a half-smile. Hermione did not look happy at that.

“Don’t you think it would be better if you solve it as soon as possible?” she asked.

“It’s not even December, Hermione! Harry’s got all the time in the world!” Ron argued, and the rest of the Gryffindor common room seemed to agree for in the next moment, it was filled with mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface. Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry fending off the Horntail with the giant vines he summoned, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Harry helped himself to some food, realizing just how hungry he was. He had a feeling that if Tom would see him, he would have some choice words about Harry stuffing himself on cake, but he didn’t care. The others expected him to celebrate with them, and besides the cake was good. He left the egg on a table, and Lee Jordan picked it up. “Open it, Harry! Let’s see what’s inside it!”

“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly. “It’s in the tournament rules. …”

“I was also supposed to figure out the dragon by myself too,” Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily.

“Go on Harry, open it!” several others echoed, urging Harry on. He wanted to frown and say no, but Lee already passed Harry the egg. So, he dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and opened it.

It was hollow and completely empty—but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” Seamus Finnigan said, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee!”

“Or someone being tortured!” Neville suggested.

Harry’s stomach fell at the thought of either. He stared at the egg and knew that there was no way he was going to open it any time soon. The Gryffindors’ party kept on till almost one in the morning when Harry was finally able to go to sleep. Feeling exhausted all around, Harry collapsed into his bed and the last thought he had was that it wouldn’t be too terrible if he slept for another three days.

Tom brought Harry for his date on the first of December, which was a Saturday. It was a rather chilly December first, and both boys were bundled up to protect themselves against the wind. They were huddled close together, gloved hands almost holding. _“Hold my hand Harry, it is fine,”_ Tom hissed in parseltongue, and Harry’s hand found its way to Tom’s. They both smiled at that as they went down the main street of Diagon Alley.

“I wrote to Sirius as soon as I could,” Harry said, “Telling him everything—especially about you stealing my wand!”

“It is not stealing, my darling, merely holding until you are well enough to use magic again,” Tom chuckled. “You’ve survived two days of classes and now it is the weekend.”

“Yeah but it’s my wand,” Harry muttered. “I promise I won’t use magic!”

“No Harry, I’m holding your wand until Madam Pomfrey says you’re good, and that’s final,” Tom said. “Come here,” he pulled Harry off the main road towards the outlook that overlooked the Shrieking Shack. Tom stared at it, frowning. “What is that house?” he asked.

“Oh right—you wouldn’t know,” Harry smiled, the issue of his wand instantly forgotten (for now). “That is the Shrieking Shack! It was made when my dad went here. It was made for my dad’s friend, he has a uh… furry little problem like how my dad puts it.”

“This friend would be Remus Lupin I am guessing,” Tom said.

Harry gasped, “How did you know?”

“On my first day here, Blaise and Theo kept singing high praises about you, darling,” Tom smirked, “if I didn’t know better, I would have been jealous. They told me everything you told Draco about your adventure last year.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blushing a little.

“But that is not why I brought you here, I wanted to be alone so I could give you my gift properly,” Tom said, his hand going into his pocket. “I did not spend much money on it, I will admit. The Slytherin girls showed me a magazine where you can order jewelry from. It’s simple but pretty, and I do hope you like it.” He pulled out a necklace. It was a simple necklace with a tight chain and an elegant pendant. “If I may?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry nodded. He took off his scarf and opened his heavy cloak enough so that Tom had clear access to his neck. He embraces Harry’s neck, his fingers gliding smoothly against the delicate skin of his boy. He pulled the necklace across. It rested against Harry’s neck, the pendant resting on his collarbones. It was comfortable, and Harry couldn’t help but smile as he felt the cold silver against his flushed body. Tom dressed him back, taking care to wrap the scarf and he held Harry’s hands as they faced each other once more.

“With this, I want the world to see that you are mine,” Tom said. “That you belong to me. I want you to wear this with all of your masks, my Harry. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed immediately, and he was pulled against Tom’s body, and their lips mashed together. His first kiss, his first proper kiss, and Harry immediately knew what the older students were talking about whenever they describing kissing. It felt magical, funnily enough, like sparks were going off in his body as and Tom embraced. Their lips pressed together, neither boy deepening it but it was enough for now. It was enough for them. They separated and Harry smiled.

“I guess this means we’re boyfriends,” he said.

“Of course darling,” Tom purred.

“Then can I kiss my boyfriend again?”

“Please.”

They eventually made their way to the three broomsticks where there was even more kissing in their discreet booth in the corner. By the time they returned to Hogwarts almost two hours later, Harry’s lips felt bruised and slightly chapped from all the kissing he and Tom did, but the feeling only made his heart soar.

“So, did I do enough kisses to get my wand back?” he asked.

Tom chuckled, “Ask me tomorrow, darling,” he purred and kissed Harry once more.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“More Parsel-magic training of course,” Tom said. “You may not have your wand, but you can still learn, my darling. So rest up.”

His lessons, surprisingly enough, involving kisses whenever Harry answered correctly or did what he was told. Harry liked that. He wished he got Tom kisses whenever he got the correct answer in his other classes. They kept to theory, since Tom still refused to give Harry his wand back until Madam Pomfrey said so, and together they’ve worked out on what exactly Harry did during the first task.

“Do you remember exactly what it is you said, my Darling?” Tom asked.

Harry gave a thoughtful expression, his hand going to his necklace, plain as day, to think. It made Tom smile. “I think it was, ‘Slither out and bind my enemies to the ground,’’ Harry said, looking up at Tom. “I don’t know where I got the words from, it was like I was just moving on my own, on instinct.”

“Instinct? Huh?” Tom hummed. He brought out Slytherin’s journal and flipped through it. “Strange. Ah! Here it is, one of Slytherin’s descendants have written about being able to control the ground with Parseltongue, just as you can conjure a snake from fire. However, from what he describes it, it was never to the extent you’ve done; he’s only pulled small vines out to wrap around ankles and necks, never enough to cage a dragon!”

Harry frowned at that, “What does that mean?” He asked.

“It means that you are brilliant, powerful, and definitely do not know your limits,” Tom chuckled. Harry’s cheeks blushed slightly. “However, I think it might be good to start training in the second type of Parsel-Magic.”

“That means I get my wand back, right?” Harry grinned.

“No, no you still have one more day left,” Tom chuckled, kissing Harry’s pouting lips. “It’ll be done before you know it, Harry. Even then, I still won’t let you use the second form of Parsel-Magic.”

“Why not?” Harry demanded.

“I do not want you to exhaust yourself again,” Tom said. “This is an advanced form of magic—powerful and dangerous. If you try to do it again, especially now, well I fear that sleeping for three days would be the least of your concerns. This is Dark Magic Harry, don’t forget that.”

“Dark Magic,” Harry breathed. “I’ve done dark magic in front of everyone.” His heart fell at the revelation. “Did they recognize it? Could they have?”

“Relax, they could not. If they did, you and I would not be speaking,” Tom said soothingly. “But this is why we must practice. Practice and know exactly what it is we are doing with Parsel-Magic. The more we both understand this mysterious and ancient magic, the better we can control it.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “So, with the spell I’ve used, it is supposed to control vines right? Makes sense, I mean I did tell them to slither out and hold the dragon to the ground.”

“You did; however you did not specify the vines,” Tom said. “So perhaps the ground or the area we were around influenced what came out.”

“You’re saying if I did it elsewhere, the vines wouldn’t come out?” Harry asked.

“It’s a good theory,” Tom muttered. “We can try that out on a later date.”

Harry smiled at that before looking at his watch, “Oh! I have to go, Ron and I promised we would study with Hermione.”

He kissed Tom and took a breath, smiling at his boyfriend. Tom, however, could see the masks that protected his boy being slipped on. Each one looking beautiful with his necklace resting on his boy’s neck. Tom watched his boy leave and sat for a few moments, adding some of his own notes to Slytherin’s journal before standing up himself. He saw a group of Durmstrang students, including Viktor Krum, and decided to join them.

“I know you,” Krum muttered. “You were with Harry Potter,” he said as Tom said down.

“I am,” Tom said simply, “He is my boy.” He looked around the table and nodded at the students he recognized.

“Your boy?” one of them, he believed Dimitri, asked.

Tom smirked at that, “Yes, my boy,” he said. “Come now, Dimitri, surely you are not… judgmental. After all, we all practice a type of magic some deem inappropriate.”

Dimitri shuffled awkwardly. Krum cleared his throat and leaned towards Tom; his brows slightly furrowed. “When you say boy, you mean… dating, yes?”

“Yes, I do,” Tom said. “Who else do you think would have given my boy his lovely necklace.” He smirked, a vision of his Harry smiling in his mind.

“It looks rather tight on his neck, aren’t necklaces supposed to be down on the chest?” Dimitri asked. Tom and Krum both laughed.

“Did you hear this boy? Riddle, yes? He calls Harry Potter his boy! Not his little girlfriend or boyfriend,” Krum said. “This isn’t little kids' stuff.”

Tom nodded, “Agreed,” he said. “Harry Potter is my boy. He is mine. I care for him, obviously, however, I will not allow anyone to even think that they can take him away from me.” He placed his hand to his neck and smirked. “Harry’s necklace is a sign to both him and others: Harry Potter belongs to Tom Riddle.”

“Good, I like that,” Krum said with a nodding smirk. “You are lucky, I am still looking for a boy like that.” His eyes glanced, for a moment, at Dimitri. “People need to know when your boy is off-limits, just as your boy needs to know that you are in charge.”

“However it has to be natural, subtle,” Tom said. “You cannot force such things; he must understand and accept his role. Approach it willingly and lovingly. My sweet darling is on the way for that.”

“So… this is training?” Dimitri asked, confused.

“No, boy, you do not understand,” Krum said, sounding annoyed. “This is not training, but—what is the word—molting? Molding? Molding. You are molding your boy into who you want him to be.”

“And that is the best version of himself,” Tom added. “With Harry, I want to see him perfect himself! He has so much to offer. He is powerful, intelligent, cunning, and very kind. I want him to see what I see when I see him, a beautiful prince.”

“Exactly!” Krum nodded, smiling. “It is not about turning your boy into something you want, but the best version that he can be! It is just sometimes; he needs a stern voice and a strong hand.” He smirked.

“And I believe Harry and I are doing swimmingly at that,” Tom chuckled. “Because of the First Task, he is not allowed to use magic for a week at least, so I took his wand. He’s a bit pouty about it, but he has not made too much of a fuss, mostly because he knows that I will return his wand the second Madam Pomfrey says that he can use magic.”

“Why?” Dimitri asked. “I mean, you are molding the boy, yah? Why not keep his wand?”

Tom frowned at Dimitri and glanced at Krum who shook his head, slightly disappointed. “You were not listening,” he muttered.

“I have Harry’s wand because Madam Pomfrey told us it is dangerous for him to use magic,” Tom explained, as though it was obvious. “This isn’t a punishment at all or anything to prove something about ourselves. This is just a simple, funny little thing to do.” His smile turned into a humored smirk. “Besides, if Harry really needed his wand, if it was a real emergency, I would give it to him in an instant.”

“This isn’t about holding things back from the boy, you fool,” Krum added. “This is about helping him develop.”

“As well as doing a little teasing,” Tom smirked. He pulled out Slytherin’s grimoire and stared at it for a moment. “The magic that Harry used in the First Task… it’s powerful, very powerful. I want him to reach a point where he can use it effectively. But he cannot do that unless he learns his limits. Unless I learn his limits.” Tom sighed and shook his head. “I’m not even sure why it is I am sharing this with you, Krum, for until this deadly tournament is over, I see you as an enemy.”

“Is that so?” Krum asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. You intend to win, which would make my darling lose,” Tom chuckled, putting the grimoire back. “I cannot allow that. I need to see just how much Harry can do, and in order to do that, my darling needs to win. He must practice and train, pushing his limit bit by bit until we both can see his truest potentials. So naturally, you stand in the way of that. As does Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour.”

“And your befriending of Durmstrang students—was this all a way to get to me?” Krum asked.

“Please, no. Do not think of yourself to be that important,” Tom said dismissively. He stood up and looked around the table. “I’ve pursued friendships because I felt like it, I saw similarities between us. Besides, I have said that you are only my enemy during the Triwizard Tournament. If I find some use of you afterward, or even if Harry somehow strikes up a friendship with you, then I am sure we will see each other again.”

Krum’s eyes narrowed. His fists clenched as his amused look turned into a scowl. “People don’t use me,” he said.

“Funny,” Tom hummed. “That is not how I see it.” Believing he has spent enough time in the library, enough so it is not obvious where he will be going next, Tom left, milling about around the second floor before heading into the Chamber of Secrets.

The next day, Madam Pomfrey brought Harry and Tom into the Hospital Wing to check on Harry’s magical core. He was given the okay to use magic again and Harry felt like he could jump ten feet into the air.

“You hear that? Give me back my wand now,” Harry said, smirking triumphantly at Tom as soon as Madam Pomfrey walked away.

The taller teen gave a sigh and pulled out Harry’s wand. “And here I was just getting used to sleeping with it near me. I suppose I’ll have to simply replace it with you in my bed,” he said.

“Tom!” Harry blushed. Tom closed the distance between them and slipped Harry’s wand into his pocket.

“I think I rather enjoy the idea, don’t you, darling?” Tom breathed before giving him a small, innocent kiss. Harry nodded before realizing what he was agreeing to. He blushed deeply and licked his lips when he did realize.

Harry quickly scoffed as he snapped out of his daze. “Come on,” he muttered. “We have Transfiguration soon and I do not want to be late because of you!”

“May, I never knew you were so studious Harry,” Tom chuckled.

“No, it is because I am deeply afraid of what Hermione will do if she learns the reason why I’m late,” Harry said in a serious tone. “Come on.” He grabbed Tom’s hand, and, for a moment, Tom watched in full admiration as Harry marched out without any masks on, his pure and raw emotions on display. He kept holding Tom’s hand the entire way to class and tightened his hold when they finally reached it, pulling Tom to sit next to him. Grinning widely, Harry’s eyes seemed to shine like emeralds as he looked at Tom, and Tom couldn’t help but give a genuine smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kisses and presents! And Tom’s sneaking planning. Thank you all for reading, and have a good day!


	8. Unexpected Challenges

Chapter 8

Unexpected Challenges

The announcement came out of nowhere.

It was the end of Transfiguration; they had finished their work; the guinea fowl they had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall’s desk; they had copied down their homework from the blackboard (Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transfiguring Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches). The bell was due to ring at any moment.

“Before you leave, I have something important to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—”

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry. Professor McGonagall ignored them.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—”

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. “The Yule Ball is of course a chance for all of us to—er—let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time; Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. Professor McGonagall called above the noise, “Potter—a word, if you please.”

Not knowing what she wanted, Harry approached cautiously to the teacher’s desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, “Potter, the champions and their partners—”

“What partners?” Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny. “Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter,” she said coldly. “Your dance partners.”

“Oh,” Harry said, sounding disinterested. He didn’t dance.

“Yes, Potter. Oh,” Professor McGonagall said irritably. “Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball. You will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter.”

For some reason, Harry had a sinking suspicion that Professor McGonagall was not talking about Tom. However, he needed to make sure, so he just blubbered out, “I have a boyfriend.” A millisecond later he realized what he has just done. He just outed himself to his Head of House… as well as having said Head of House being the first person for him to say the “B” word to.

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a moment, her irritated expression softening slightly. “I see,” she said. “Then proceed with caution if you and he decide to go together, Potter.”

“Why?”

“You should know Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, as though what she said was common knowledge. “Hogwarts has tolerance standards that accept everyone. We have no problems with whom you decide to go for, in that matter of speaking. Your private life is yours, Potter. However, I cannot speak the same about the other schools. So think carefully, Potter, if you two want to go together or if you would rather instead go with a friend.”

“I’m going with him,” Harry said immediately. It wasn’t even a question. Harry knew that Tom would not like to see anyone else sitting or dancing with him, however, he too did not want to see anyone at all dancing with Tom.

“Very well, then I will say you two should proceed with caution once again,” Professor McGonagall said, and Harry was dismissed.

Tom Riddle was waiting for Harry right outside the classroom. “Hello, my darling,” he purred, kissing his boy’s cheek. His arm wrapped around Harry’s waist and he smirked, “Are you okay with this?” he asked, “Do you have your correct masks on?”

“Yes, Tom,” Harry nodded.

“Good, now what did McGonagall want to talk with you about?” Tom asked as they started moving away from the classroom.

“The Yule Ball,” Harry said, scrunching his nose up slightly. “I have to open it because I’m a champion. Me… and my dance partner.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Tom hummed.

“I don’t,” Harry said shortly.

Tom chuckled at that and smirked, “You don’t?” he said, “Now that is an awkward predicament. However, will you open the ball with your _partner_ if you do not dance?” Harry didn’t like the way he said 'partner.' Tom’s grip on him tightened and Harry felt an icy undertone, a sleeping threat under his words.

“Y-Yeah,” Harry muttered. “I don’t know how we will do it. I don’t dance at all, do you?” He looked up at Tom.

“Me? Why would you need to know if I can dance?” Tom asked. Harry could see the tips of his mouth smirking slightly and decided to play along.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry hummed. “I mean, I would need an instructor to teach me after all, perhaps one who’ll teach me how to dance in the girl’s role? I don’t think I’ll be the best person to lead in a dance.”

“No darling, very not so,” Tom said, his voice dripping with possession. “In a dance, you would work best to follow.”

“Then I should ask a girl who is not afraid to take the lead,” Harry hummed, smirking as he felt Tom’s hand on his waist tighten.

“A girl? You are going to ask a girl?” Tom stopped, looking down at Harry with complete seriousness. He did not look happy and Harry felt like he may have pushed this too far, or perhaps Tom has reacted too much. However, Harry would not allow Tom to continue this. He stood tall and took Tom’s hand from his waist to bring it to his mouth, kissing it.

“Never,” he said, “I’m bringing you,” he said.

“Me?” Tom said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we’re boyfriends after all,” Harry smiled. “It’s only right that I bring you.” Tom stared at him for a moment before relaxing slightly.

“You want to bring me as your partner?” he asked. Harry smiled, “Of course! Who else would I bring? Professor McGonagall warned against it because of how the other schools might think, but for once I don’t care what people think. I want to go to the Yule Ball wearing your mask.”

“And what is my mask?” Tom asked, “Is it done?” Harry nodded and Tom smiled happily. “Well, I am dying with anticipation my darling. What is it?”

“Not here,” Harry said, shaking his head. He looked around and bit his lower lip, “Can we go to our study? I’ll tell you there.”

Tom raised an eyebrow but nodded. Their classes were over for the day, so they both made their way to the second-floor girls’ bathroom, making sure to be followed by no one, and a few minutes later found the two sitting comfortably on a leather couch in Slytherin’s Study in the Chamber of Secrets. “So, my mask,” Tom said.

Harry smiled he played with Tom’s hands as he talked, “When I wear it, I’m confident. Confident to be seen with you, confident to show my feelings for you in front of everyone. I don’t care what anyone thinks, the only opinion that matters is yours. It’s like the mask that I have for when I’m around my Slytherin friends. I’m more relaxed, more willing to be myself, and show my… interest in the Dark Arts. And speak in Parseltongue. I feel like… like I can show the parts that I’m hiding from the rest of the world.” Harry’s cheeks reddened as he talked, which only made Tom feel more prideful that the boy was his.

“And above all,” Tom purred, “it proves that you are mine.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “but it goes both ways. You are mine too, Tom Riddle.”

“And I would never dream of being anyone else’s,” Tom said before capturing Harry’s lips.

“What a disgusting display.”

Harry and Tom separated immediately, the third voice surprising them. They looked around, dazed until their eyes landed on the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He glared at them, looking as threatening as a painting could, his company snake hissing at the two of them. “To think my personal study would be soiled by such disgustingness! Have you no shame, villains?” he demanded.

“Villains?” Tom repeated, “funny way of greeting your heir.”

“You two? As if!” Slytherin sneered. “I would never allow my heirs to divulge themselves in sodomy like this! If I had my way, I would have both of you killed and fed to the basilisk!”

Tom laughed at this. He stood from the couch and faced the portrait in full. “Then you must be out of touch,” he said. “Hogwarts does not care, and the Monster of Slytherin is no more. All you have left in this chamber is your study and your heirs who deem to use it for their purposes. And that includes showing our affection for one another.”

“Disgusting,” Slytherin said. “You are no heirs of mine! Neither of them would even think of doing such outlandish behavior! Men dating, pah! That is the stuff of Gryffindor nonsense!”

“Then you should really hate that I’m a Gryffindor,” Harry said, standing up. “And really, I do not like your opinions on this matter very much.” Slytherin glared at Harry, looking murderous.

“A GRYFFINDOR IN MY STUDY! THE INSULT! THE HUMILIATION! AND A SODOMITE AT THAT! YOU SHOULD BE KILLED! YOU BOTH SHOULD BE KILLED! MY CHAMBER WILL NEVER WELCOME YOU AGAIN!” Slytherin boomed. The boys waited, but nothing happened. The room did not shake, the magic did not react. Only the echoes of the painting’s rantings remained before silence overtook it. Harry stared at the painting for a moment before getting an idea. He turned to Tom and talked completely in Parseltongue.

 _“Tom, I don’t like how this painting is treating you,”_ he hissed.

 _“I do not like how it is treating you, my darling. I have half a mind to cut it down. However, it is still a portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself,”_ Tom replied.

Harry smiled, glancing at the painting to see Slytherin’s shock. _“Maybe so, but I am sure there are other paintings. Besides, he has a statue, and we have all of his books and research notes here—as well as the research of your ancestors, his descendants. What is the harm of… burning one painting? Besides, I still need to practice the second form of Parsel-Magic.”_

Tom’s eyes widened with recognition. He chuckled and put his hand over Harry’s as his darling boy took out his wand. _“An excellent idea, my Harry. However, I will not allow you to use all of your magic. I do not want you to exhaust yourself, there will be consequences if you do that again. So, we will do it together.”_

Harry nodded and together they aimed their wand at the portrait. _“Now my dear, you will repeat after me. The incantation we will use is as follows, ‘Serpents of Flame, come burn my foe.’”_

Harry nodded and he gave a smile at the portrait, his eyes burning with excitement. “Goodbye,” he said. _“Serpent of Flames, come burn my foe!”_ Harry felt their magic binding together, summoning a burst of flame that, for a moment, appeared as a dozen snakes shooting from Harry’s wand all hissing loudly with their mouths open at the portrait. Slytherin screamed as the painting caught fire immediately. The fire spread quickly, and Harry felt a surge of power and excitement overwhelm him, like electricity coursing through his nervous system. He could burn the whole room, no the whole castle if he wanted to. His smile grew and he wanted to watch the flames grow, devouring everything it could. But then the hand on his tightened. Harry turned to see Tom staring emotionlessly at the fire, controlling both it and Harry. Tom made sure that the fire stayed on the portrait as the paint boiled and paper curled in the flames, burning up as a foul smell filled the room.

Then the fire was gone, Tom dismissing it. Where once the proud portrait of Salazar Slytherin stood now was just a bare wall with scorch marks and ash, the edges of paint around the portrait curling and threatening to flake off. A pile of ash was on the mantle of the fireplace. Tom lowered their arms and smirked, “There, much better.”

Harry took his wand and muttered a cleaning spell, cleaning the walls and mantle before turning to Tom. “I—I almost lost control,” he said. “I could feel the power through me like I could have burned down the entire castle!”

“And I have no doubt that you can, my dear,” Tom said. “However, we must work on your restraint. Now, how about you be a good boy and cuddle with me.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned and the two fell back to the couch, their hands and lips finding each other once more. Tom smirked in the kiss and leaned forward to pull a book out of his pocket, “For you my love.” It was a collection of works from Edgar Allan Poe. “I’ve finished reading and thought that it might help you. One of my favorite stories is in there as well.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Tom chuckled. “It is called ‘The Masque of the Red Death.’ A bit morbid, as are all of his works, but it is still a good read.”

Harry hummed and kissed Tom’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said, pocketing the book. “But right now I rather get back to kissing you.”

“Then do it,” Tom breathed, and Harry obeyed all too willingly.

Time let out an annoying noise as she slumped in her chair. She was in her office, a large room filled with many hovering crystals that sparkled in the air. One of which was lower than the rest, shining its light onto a bare wall showing Harry Potter and Tom Riddle as they spend the rest of their school term in December acting like a normal couple. “Boring!” she huffed. “Absolutely Boring! Who is writing this shit?” She stood up and stomped around her desk to glare at the projection fully. “I wanted drama! Angst! Hell maybe even love triangle or death, who knows? But this? Who cares about Harry Potter and his stupid masks, his anxiety, and all that boring shit? And Tom Riddle being a murderously supportive boyfriend? Boring as balls! I can’t take it!” She whirled around and slammed her hand on a buzzer on her desk. “Number Two-Seventy Four of Time Management, get up here NOW!” She was angry, annoyed, utterly bored! She needed something to alleviate herself.

And demoting her workers, her playthings who all work for her in order to keep timelines flowing, helped.

She waited only thirty-seven seconds before there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said in a sweet voice. The door opened and worker Two-Seventy Four walked in. Time’s workers did not look like ordinary humans. They were human-ish, however, they all had factors that made them creepily inhuman. Its hands were longer than humans, with long skeletal-like fingers, each hand having seven fingers all curved around its palm. Its skin looked unnatural, as though it was painted on or filled in. Its head looked normal enough, however, its eyes were a bit larger than normal and a bright blue. The worker was dressed in a suit and bowed, “Mistress,” it said, its voice sounding completely unremarkable.

It stood still as Time scowled. “I’m demoting you,” she said. “No real reason—you do your job well enough—but I need something to relax me.” She stepped towards the worker and hummed, “Where to put you? You’re on the top right now… so let’s see…” she hummed and slowly circled the worker, her hand moving to caress its short black hair. “You don’t really need this now, do you?” she chuckled. Time grabbed a fistful of the hair and pulled. The entire hair ripped away with a squishy sound, as though it was just glued onto the top of the worker’s scalp. The worker did not flinch or scream as Time threw the hair away, leaving the worker’s head completely clean and bald, looking as white as paper.

“Let’s see… I have enough people downstairs, so you’ll get to keep some of your face,” Time hummed. She stood, tapping her chin with a finger thoughtfully. “And I have enough laws, I don’t feel like changing so… goodbye mouth.” She reached forward and grabbed the worker’s lips. Again she ripped and the mouth peeled off, a white sticky material breaking off between the detached lips and face until snapping back, melding perfectly with the empty space until it smoothed out. Time threw the mouth in a nearby waste bin. “Also you don’t really need a nose now, do you?”

The worker just continued to stand, his eyes now wide with fear as Time once again reached for his face. Instead of pulling its nose off, however, Time pressed two fingers in, squishing the nose into the face. It curled around her fingers as it sunk in before smoothing out once more. Its skin continued to lose color with each removal. Now it only looked as though it had a hint of color, as on its face were just the large buggy eyes and its ears.

Time made a popping noise with her lips and smiled, “Perfect! Look at you, my cute little watcher!” She stared into its eyes and saw that it still stared at her fearfully. “Oh right,” she muttered, “forgot about that. You still have a personality. Can’t have that, can we?” She patted its cheek and smiled, “but that’ll go away in time. Ha! You get it? In time—because I’m Time and—oh right you can’t laugh now. Never mind, go back to work now.” She waved her hand dismissively at the worker and it turned and left obediently.

“You always have horrible jokes,” a low rattly voice said. Time turned to see a man dressed in black tattered robes that hid his face standing by the window. The man seemed to suck all life from everything around him.

Time sighed and moved to a wall where a liquor cabinet stood. She opened it and took out two glasses, filling one with her favorite whiskey and the other with a wine that looked suspiciously like blood. “Do we even have an appointment?” Time muttered.

“I do not need appointments, Time,” the man said. “I have no need for it.”

“Just like you have no need for fashion apparently,” Time muttered. She handed the second drink to the man and took a sip of her own. “So, what can I do for my annoying brother, Death?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Death said. He brought the cup to his hood and the liquid disappeared without Death revealing his face. The hood turned to look at the wall where the projection of Harry and Tom still was moving. “Them again?”

“They’re being boring,” Time muttered. “No drama or anything.” She glanced at her brother and had a thoughtful expression. “Brother dearest—”

“No,” Death interrupted her. “I come to all; however I will not hasten lives just to cure your boredom.”

Time pouted, “But they need something to make this interesting!” she complained. “I mean look at them! They have their problems but normal human problems like anxiety and possessiveness! Along with the usual deadly challenges that this tournament provides! I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen this over and over! They talk about how it’s deadly, yet no one dies! I mean there was that one guy, but does he really count? He didn’t really die because of the tournament.”

Death just hummed and stared at the projection. “I do not sense my coming in that timeline for quite some time regarding the students of Hogwarts.”

“See! Where is the fun in that?” Time pouted. “So why don’t you just go in there and—”

“It is not our job to meddle in human affairs!” Death yelled, his voice sounding like an echo through a dark chasm. “I told you and our siblings over again what our roles are! We are eternal. Humans are glimpses. You need to learn that, and perhaps you won’t be so bored.”

Time felt her temper reaching a blowing point. She slammed her glass down on her desk, shattering it. “That is boring!” she screamed. “Too boring! If you don’t help me then I’ll ask our other siblings! Dream will weave his webs and send them nightmares; Desire will whisper in their ears as they spread lust! Anything—anything to cure my boredom!”

Death sighed and shook his head. “We are always haunted by humans,” he said. “Do not make it worse by getting involved in their affairs.” And with that, he vanished in darkness, disappearing from Time’s office.

Mistress Time scowled and huffed. “Damn bone man don’t tell me what to do,” she muttered. She felt angry again and slammed her fist on her desk again. Demoting her workers could only entertain her so much. She needed something else, something to mess with this too smooth love story. “Fine, if the bone man won’t help me, then I’ll get our other siblings,” she muttered. She stood calmly and pressed her hands over her dress, smoothing it out. She cleared her throat and pressed the intercom button once more. “Please send a message to my brother Dream and sibling Desire, I would like to speak with them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's a critic.... How will Time's meddling affect the boys?


	9. Yule Surprise

Chapter 9

Yule Surprise

Harry felt sympathetic for Ron. Leading up to the Yule Ball, he could not find a date and every time he tried to ask a girl, Ron would only get flustered and sputtered on nonsense before being laughed at. He even had a disastrous attempt at asking Hermione out, starting with “Hermione, you’re a girl right?” Needless to say, it did not end well with magicked birds chasing Ron away, and a very angry Hermione stomping back the other way. In the end, to Harry’s relief, Ron found a date with Padma Patil. When he told Harry about it in the common room, he asked, “You’re going with that Riddle bloke right?”

“Yes Ron, I’m going with my boyfriend,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “You know he has a name, right?”

“Not until I talk with him, “Ron said, puffing up his chest. “It’s what best mates do, right? Intimidate your friends’ boyfriends. Charlie told me so.”

Harry just raised an eyebrow and sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know,” he said. “To be honest I’m still a bit scared because of what Professor McGonagall told me.”

“What’d she tell you?” Ron asked.

“That even though Hogwarts is okay with it, the other schools might not be,” Harry said honestly. “Tom and I know the… dangers of being who we are, and I know we’re damn lucky that nothing has happened yet, but still the thought that someone might hurt me, or worse hurt Tom, it honestly scares me.”

“I don’t get it,” Ron said, frowning. “I mean like, you and Tom you’re dating, right? Why should people give you a hard time over that?”

Harry frowned, his thoughts going to the Dursleys. “Because we’re different,” he said bitterly.”

“I don’t see it,” Ron shrugged, “seems to me that they’re just idiots.” Harry snorted and smiled at that.

“That’s exactly right Ron,” he said, “They’re idiots!”

“Yeah,” Ron grinned. “So, you down for some wizards’ chess?”

When Christmas morning came, Harry woke up to a pile of presents at the end of his bed. It was a lovely day, with snow lightly falling outside Hogwarts. Because of the Yule Ball, more students than usual decided to stay at Hogwarts, which Harry found a bit nerve-wracking considering he and Tom would have to dance in front of all of them. But they have been practicing, an hour every day in their study in the Chamber of Secrets. Ever since they burnt down Slytherin’s portrait, Tom declared the room and chamber theirs, and so the study became their study, their own personal haven against the world.

But back to the presents.

Harry did not even bother to look at the Dursley’s present, which was an all-time low with just a single tissue, and instead moved on to the others. Hermione had given Harry a book called _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland_ ; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs that Harry was too polite to tell him that he didn’t really like pranks with those anymore; Sirius a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot, along with a long heartfelt letter of congratulations for the First Task and condolences on his broomstick with a reminder that, even though the Firebolt is gone, Harry will always have Sirius; Hagrid gave him a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favorites, and Draco gave him a lovely green scarf that matched his eyes beautifully with the other Slytherins chipping in to give him a new pair of black dragonhide boots. Mrs. Weasley, as usual, gave Harry her usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it—Harry supposed Charlie Weasley, who worked with the dragons, told her about the Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince pies. There was one more gift with only a letter and a tag that read “ _To my darling_.” Harry knew immediately that it was obviously from Tom.

He was a good boyfriend and read the letter first.

_My Darling,_

_Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. I have thought long on what I should give you today. What to give to my sweet darling? My lovely Harry who is so good for me? I’ve already gifted you a necklace, which inspires pride to swell within me every time I see it hug your neck. What else will fit you? What else would show just how much I care for you and listen to you? Then it hit me, like a lightning bolt of inspiration. I’ve had to pull a few strings and ask the other Slytherins in our year for favors, but still, I was able to have it made, and now it is yours, my Darling. Though you may not wear it openly, I hope that it can be a symbol of how much I adore you._

_Love,_

_Tom Riddle_

Love… Tom wrote love. Harry couldn’t help but tear up a little at that. It might be quick, yes, they have only been dating for about a month or so, and have only known each other since the beginning of November, but still, everything about their relationship was far from ordinary and yet so right. Tom wrote love, was that the feeling Harry was feeling for Tom? Was that the feeling Tom was feeling for Harry? He couldn’t be sure, all he knew was that Tom was the closest to himself, closest to seeing Harry without his masks. It was a terrifying thought, absolutely so, yet it wasn’t dreadful the more Harry thought about it. It was exciting to have someone so close to his real self, someone, where he can just be himself with none of his masks, it was a total relief. Like knowing in the back of his mind no matter what happens, Tom would always be there to take care of him. That thought made Harry cry softly, smiling at the wrapped present as he finally opened it.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from gasping. It was a mask. A beautiful half-mask that only covered his eyes. It was a pure emerald with small black stone lining the sides. It had a simple design, like one of the masquerade masks sold in party stores, however, Harry knew just by the look of it, that the mask was anything but ordinary. For one, Harry could wear it without his glasses and see perfectly. He tried it out and smiled when he saw that the eye holes, either through magic or clever lens, perfected his vision like he was wearing his glasses normally. Secondly, it seemed to perfectly fit his face without any bands or hooks, molding to his impressions and resting comfortably. He could feel almost a surge of power and smirked to himself, imagining that somehow Tom did some Parsel-Magic on it for an extra effect. He’ll have to ask him about it later.

But for now, Harry decided to hide his beautiful mask away, putting it in the bottom of his chest and protecting it with every protection spell he knew, cast in parseltongue for extra power, of course.

Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch. Tom decided to join with Harry after lunch, walking with the three Gryffindors out onto the grounds in the afternoon. Ron glanced at Tom every now and again, doing his best to stand taller and more impressive looking than Tom, which was a hard task, and said, “So… Riddle.”

Tom glanced at Ron, giving him a look that was almost like he could read Ron’s entire existence in a second, and gave a small smirk. “Yes, Weasley? That is my name.”

“You are… Harry’s boyfriend,” Ron started.

“Indeed.”

“You are… nice to my friend,” Ron said.

“Yes, you are quite the interrogator, aren’t you?” Tom chuckled.

“Tom be nice,” Harry whispered. His hand was in Tom’s and he couldn’t help but smile. He could only feel one mask on right now, Tom’s mask, and he was just happy to be with his boyfriend and two best friends.

Ron flustered and pouted, “What is that supposed to mean?” he muttered. “I just wanted to know what kind of person you are, that’s what you’re supposed to do, right Hermione?” He looked at Hermione for help, but she just shook her head.

“Fine, then ask away,” Tom smiled easily.

“Where are you from? Why did you enter Hogwarts this year? Why are you a slimy Slytherin? How—”

“RON!” Harry yelled, “Please,” he said stressing the word, “One at a time.”

Tom laughed and shook his head, “Harry, it is no problem. I am more than aware of my strange predicament regarding Hogwarts. If you must know, Weasley, I am just starting Hogwarts in my fourth year because of my guardians’ deaths. My mother and my uncle to be more specific. Until then, I was homeschooled. As for why I do not know, it was their decision. They have died in the end of September and the beginning of October, which was why I started just after Halloween, it took that long to get papers in order. As for why I am in Slytherin, well it is just a sort of family tradition, my uncle talked at length on how he and his father before him were Slytherins. Of course, they did not let my mother go to Hogwarts.”

“Why not?” Ron asked.

“They hated Dumbledore for some reason,” Tom hummed. “I’m sorry, it’s still hard to talk about them,” he frowned and looked around the snowy landscape in front of them. “That’s everything about my past that I would rather talk about, I’m sorry.”

“Oh… uh it’s no problem,” Ron muttered. “Sorry, mate.” Tom just shrugged. “But uh… that was you, right? Who taught Harry that freaky magic in the first task?”

“If you mean the vines that trapped the dragon? I’ve merely given him the method, the display of magic was all my darling’s,” Tom hummed. “And I am happy that he’s done so! Personally, I did not want to see him use it due to the strain that it caused to his magic, but we both had a feeling he would need to know it as a background strategy incase the broomstick did not come.”

“Oh right,” Ron frowned, he glanced at Harry, “Uh… sorry for bringing that up.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sirius told me that even though the broomstick is gone, I’ll always have him, and that’s more important,” Harry said.

“Right you are, Harry,” Tom nodded in agreement.

Ron looked between the two of them and, as though he made up his mind, gave Tom a smirk, “I think I’ve figured you out Riddle, you’re all right. For a Slytherin that is.”

“I am so happy to meet your approval,” Tom drawled.

Harry and the Weasleys started a snowball fight, with just Hermione and Tom watching. Tom noticed odd looks from the youngest female Weasley, whose name he could possibly not even bother remembering. At five, Hermione left to get ready for the ball, and soon after Tom too took his leave to prepare himself.

He was able to get a set of dress robes for the ball through various connections with several of the Slytherin children. Which is to say, he convinced several students to lend him the needed money to get himself a suit that perfectly fits his taste.

The dress robes were black, naturally, and quite form-fitting, tailored to end directly on top of his wrist and ankles. His shirt underneath was a deep emerald, with a black tie to make the color of his shirt more pronounced, as well as a simple watch to accessorize. It took Tom only an hour to get his dress robes together, he spent the rest of the time making sure that everything was in place. He would hate to make less than the optimal impression. When he was satisfied with how he looked, he went into the main common room where the others were. “Needless to say,” he began talking aloud, assuming that the others would simply stop talking and look at him, “I will be disappointed if anyone here has any negative comments towards Harry Potter. It is a true shame that he is not where he belongs, here, however, I will not allow any of you to use that to spread any rumors or lies about him. I have seen a few here with a button claiming that ‘Potter Stinks.’ Rest assured that you will be dealt with.” He paused and frowned as he looked around. Only about three-quarters of the room were listening in. _Fine, more people to punish. I need a stress reliever._ He quickly memorized the faces of those who did not listen and walked to meet up with Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini.

Draco was staring at him cautiously, “What are you planning?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Tom hummed. “However if you want to watch and make sure that I am a good boy while I punish those who would dare to hurt my darling, you are more than welcomed to.”

“If Harry hears about this—”

“He will not, not unless he asks me directly, to which I will not lie,” Tom said. “That is what friends and lovers do, Malfoy. They do not lie. Especially when it is about their own feelings.”

Draco just glared at him some more before shaking his head. “I’ll be watching you,” he muttered before stepping away for last-minute adjustments with his own suit.

“That poor boy, he really needs to get a boyfriend,” Tom said, shaking his head lightly. Blaise and Theo just chuckled, and Tom smirked at them. “Well, I believe I better go and meet up with Harry. Have a pleasant evening.”

The entrance hall was packed with students when Tom arrived, however, they seemed to part as he immediately made a straight line towards Harry, who was standing around awkwardly. He looked good in his dress robes, a simple black and white combination, however, Tom’s poor boy stood too hesitantly in them, as though the clothes were wearing him instead of the other way around. As Tom got closer, he smirked when he saw the faint glint of his necklace. “Hello darling,” he purred as soon as he was in front of Harry.

“H-Hi,” Harry blushed. Tom smiled at that and took Harry’s hands, “Come here, let’s fix you up,” he muttered as Professor McGonagall called for the champions to go to her. They all stood to one side of the doors to let the others inside. Tom pulled Harry into a corner and took out his wand, muttering under his breath. Wrinkles disappeared, the fabric of Harry’s dress robe. He pulled Harry’s tie off, tossing it over his shoulder, and tapped around Harry’s dress robes to shorten the length around the neck, letting it smooth out near the bottom and give an unobscured view of his necklace. Tom hummed before nodding and, with another wave, a proud Slytherin tie in green and silver wrapped itself around Harry’s neck, tying its knot perfectly and sitting comfortably on his dress shirt. Tom readjusted his dress robes and smiled at his boyfriend. “I’m sorry darling, but I don’t know any spells for hair.”

“That’s fine, uh thank you,” Harry muttered, kissing Tom’s cheek. They heard a noise near them and Harry looked up to see Fleur Delacour giving the two a dirty look and muttering something in French. His heart sank immediately, and he could feel himself regressing within himself. “Tom,” he whispered.

“You have my necklace Harry, so wear my mask,” Tom whispered. Harry took a breath and nodded.

_I’m a shapeshifter at Poe’s Masquerade. Hiding both face and mind, all free for you to draw. I’m a shapeshifter, what else should I be? Please don’t take off my mask. My place to hide._

His face became neutral for a moment before giving Tom a small, short smile. “I’m better,” he muttered and finally took the time to look around. Fleur Delacour was with Roger Davis and stationed themselves nearest to the door. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry and Tom, Cedric catching Harry’s eye and giving him a small smile before going back to whatever he was talking about with Cho. Harry looked to see who Krum brought. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow—or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was smiling rather nervously.

“Hi Harry!” she said. “Hello, Tom!”

“Miss Granger, you look absolutely divine,” Tom said smoothly, and he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Harry saw, with some satisfaction, that when Draco Malfoy walked with Pansy Parkinson on his arms, she just stared at Hermione gobsmacked. Ron, who came with one of the Patil twins, did not even look at Hermione, however.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each sitting about a dozen people.

Harry focused on just walking straight ahead, glancing down every now and again to make sure he doesn’t trip. “Relax darling,” Tom murmured, “you are walking too stiffly.” They approached the table with the five judges and Tom made a noise, “It seems that Mr. Crouch was replaced by a Weasley, I think.”

Harry looked up to see what he was talking about and saw that Mr. Crouch wasn’t there, instead Percy Weasley sat in his seat, wearing brand-new navy blue robes. Percy drew out the empty chair beside him and stared pointedly at Harry. “He wants us to sit with him, should we?”

“I rather we sit next to Krum, there is something I wish to speak with him,” Tom muttered, but as both luck and misfortune would have it, it worked out so that Harry sat next to Percy, with Tom next to him obviously, and Krum next to Tom with Hermione on his other side. “I’ve been promoted!” Percy said smugly. “I’m now Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.”

“Oh… that’s nice,” Harry muttered. He thought to ask Percy why Mr. Crouch wasn’t here but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned towards Tom and glanced at Percy before whispering out a language only he and Tom understood. _“What is it you want to speak to Krum about?”_

 _“Durmstrang’s approach to magic, it might help you with the second and third tasks,”_ Tom replied. He glanced around at the table and saw Professor Dumbledore giving the two an odd look. He frowned. _“My darling, there shouldn’t be a possibility, but the old man is known for his tricks, but I think he can understand what we are saying, even if he can hear us over all the noise at all.”_

Harry’s eyes widened. He stared at Dumbledore as well, panicking momentarily, before pushing it back. There was no way he could understand Parseltongue, no way at all. They were just being silly. “Still,” he whispered, “just in case, maybe we should stick to English, and not talk about such stuff around people.”

“Right you are Harry,” Tom smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek. Fleur made a disgusted noise once more, and Harry could feel more eyes glaring at him at that moment. He looked around the table and frowned when he saw both Karkaroff and Madame Maxime giving the two of them pointed glares, and even Mr. Bagman glanced at him, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, Dumbledore,” Mr. Bagman said awkwardly. “Are you aware of Harry and his… friend as a date?”

Dumbledore looked puzzled at the question and glanced at the two of them. “I’m afraid that I am not always aware of the latest rumors and gossip in Hogwarts,” he began, “however I have heard, and seen, that both Mr. Potter and Mr. Riddle are in a relationship—isn’t that right, boys?”

Harry’s face reddened while Tom answered, “You are correct, Professor. However, if we were trying to keep it a secret, I think we have failed. Especially with how often we just walk around the castle holding hands.”

“Ah… yes, of course… yes,” Bagman muttered. “I think we should, uh, start dinner then…”

The table all looked at Dumbledore who simply picked up a menu from his empty place and examined it carefully for a moment. Then he said very clearly to the plate, “Pork chops!”

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too, Harry all too glad that the conversations seemed to be leaning away from his and Tom’s relationship.

However, it did not last long enough as Madame Maxime continued to glance angrily at both Tom and Harry, Tom in a deep conversation with Krum as Harry and Hermione talk before the two turns back to their partners. Halfway through dinner she slammed her hand against the table and yelled out in rapid French, “C'est une insulte! Pour me demander et Fleur de dîner avec deux homosexuels!? C'est une insulte à notre être même— Dumbledore you cannot expect me to allow this!”

“Madame Maxime, what is the matter?” Dumbledore asked, frowning. “Is the food not to your liking?” He had a hard look on his face, as though he knew exactly what she was angry about.

“This!” Madame Maxime said in a hushed tone, “That boy and his—his friend!”

“Now, now Madame, I am sure we are all… a little put off by Harry’s choice of partner,” Mr. Bagman said.

“Partner!? Dumbledore this is an insult!”

“No, I have to say it is not, I am so terribly sorry my dear Maxime, but here at Hogwarts we have a tolerance policy that accepts everyone as a student,” Dumbledore said, keeping a friendly smile though his voice did not share any of the friendliness. “It has been here since Headmaster Dippet sat in this chair—and I will hardly even begin to think about revoking it. If you have a problem with who Harry Potter has chosen as his partner, I rather you have it be a problem with Mr. Riddle’s character! Not their genders.” He looked at the two boys and surprised Tom by smiling supportively at them.

“We will talk about this later,” Madam Maxime threatened and snapped her fingers to refill the glass in front of her with a pink drink before downing it and switching back to rapid French with Fleur Delacour.

Harry was saved from further embarrassment as dinner was soon over and Dumbledore stood up, asking the students to do so as well. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that were artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments Harry and Tom followed the other champions onto the dance floor.

Tom’s face soured as the Weird Sisters started a slow, mournful tune. “What the hell is this?” he muttered.

“Um, music?” Harry guessed, never once heard a song by the Weird Sisters.

“No Harry, music has a rhythm, a beautiful flow from one note to the next. This, darling, is noise which we are forced to dance to,” he said as he led Harry in dancing, both slowly revolving in the spot. “Why, one thing I remember actually liking back from where I am from is Celestina Warbeck’s music. She was new, at the time, but it had something I’ve enjoyed. This, however,” Tom waved a dismissive hand towards the Weird Sisters, “utter garbage.”

Harry couldn’t help but snicker and laugh at Tom’s disdain. “You sounded so human for a second there,” he grinned, “I forgot that you were my boyfriend.”

“Harry! I take offense to that,” Tom said, though he was grinning. “I’ll have you know that I can perform a full range of emotions when I want to.”

“Oh really? So you’re not a robot who only dispenses kisses and spells?” Harry grinned.

Tom frowned, “What is a robot, darling? It sounds absolutely dreadful. But no, I am no robot,” he closed their distance and kissed Harry fully as they danced, “I’m the boy who captured Harry Potter’s heart,” he whispered.

“Are you sure it’s not me who captured yours?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. Tom gave a soft snicker and shook his head.

Around them, others joined the dancing floor so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were together, and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime, who seemed to have completely forgotten about her outburst as her cheeks were a jolly red. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

The song stopped with a final quavering note from the bagpipe and the two boys shared a look as a new, faster song started. “Shall we walk?” Tom said.

“Please,” Harry begged and the two left the dancing floor. The couple barely made it to the entrance hall when Harry heard his name being called. He turned around to see Cedric Diggory running up to him.

“Harry—Harry,” he panted. “Um, I just wanted to say some things,” he said when he finally caught up.”

“Yeah?”

“Well uhh… I just wanted to say uh, good on you, you know, for um bringing your boyfriend as—as your date,” Cedric began, stumbling over his words and for the first time, looking extremely embarrassed as his cheeks and ears turned red. He glanced back and Harry saw Cho Chang waiting for him in the doorway. “Uh I just wanted you to know uh, that I support you—we support you, Cho and I, and uh I wanted to pay you back, for help with the dragons.”

“Oh, um thank you, Cedric,” Harry said, glancing at Tom. Cedric glanced at him too, as if unsure if he should say the following with Tom around. Sensing his indecision, Tom said, “Whatever you have to say to Harry, he will repeat back to me as we work it out together so you might as well just say it now and save my darling the oxygen.”

“Oh, right. Does your egg wail when you open it?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Well… take a bath, okay?”

“What?”

“Take a bath and bring your egg with you, and—er—just mull things over in the hot water. It’ll help you think—tell you what, use the prefect’s bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh.’ Gotta go—and uh I support you in your relationship.”

Cedric ran back to Cho and the two went back into the Great Hall. Harry looked at Tom and frowned, “That was uhh…”

“A Hufflepuff being a Hufflepuff,” Tom drawled, “Although his heart and brains are in the right place. So my darling, shall we take that bath he mentioned now?”

“No, no there’s something else I want to do tonight,” Harry blushed. “Tom, can you come with me to the seventh floor? I want to show you my paintings.” He looked extremely nervous, his heart beating frantically at the thought of someone other than Draco to see his masks, all of his masks. But it needed to be done. Harry wanted to do it and now seemed like the perfect time.

“I’m honored,” Tom said, giving Harry a smile as he hugged the boy dearly. “Please my love, lead the way.”

Ron was angry. He was at the ball with a date he didn’t want to be with who has left him long ago to dance while he sulked, glaring at Hermione as she danced with Viktor Krum of all people! “Stupid Hermione, fraternizing with the enemy,” he muttered to himself.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Weasley? Realized you’re poorer than a broken rat?” a smug voice said in front of him. Ron looked up and his glare moved from Hermione and Krum to Draco Malfoy who was now without his date, Parkinson.

“Shut up Malfoy,” he muttered.

“Aw what the matter? Found out nobody loves a poor boy?” Malfoy snickered.

“Get away you ferret breath,” Ron said angrily, “And don’t talk to me about nobody wanting who, I see that your date left you too!”

“I left her, honestly Parkinson is a horrible dancer,” Malfoy said dismissively. “Do not get the idea that we are in any way alike.”

“Yeah, like I’d want to be a ferret faced prat like you,” Ron said, getting to his feet, smirking at how he towered over Malfoy slightly. “And I bet Parkinson left you because you just complained about Harry.”

“Why you—”

“’Oh that stupid perfect Potter, look at him and his perfect boyfriend,’” Ron said, talking in a high falsetto to imitate Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered at Ron. “Yeah well, at least I’m not constantly looking for people’s approval. Look at you! Glaring at Granger because she wouldn’t go with you to the dance? You’re nothing but a crying little boy.”

“Says the person too scared to ask his friend to a dance and pouts because she chooses someone else,” Malfoy smirked. Ron’s temper rose. He took a step closer to Malfoy, “You snobby git!”

“You mannerless hillbilly!”

“You foppish fairy!”

“You brutish ape!”

“GIT!”

With each insult they took a step closer to each other, tempers flaring and emotions running high. Ron and Draco glared at each other for a moment before, without either one realizing it, they smashed their mouths together, attacking each other’s lips as they continued to mutter insult after insult. “You idiotic maroon.” “You spoiled jackass.” On and on they kissed and insulted each other, not fully aware of what they were doing or how people around them politely stepped away.

Hermione too saw this and frowned, stepping away from Krum momentarily to find Ginny, who was by a table to get a refreshment. “Ginny, about Ron—”

“Huh? Oh yeah—um Hermione, who’s Harry’s boyfriend?” Ginny asked, not even looking at Ron and Draco Malfoy, who both have somehow stopped sucking each other’s faces to glare at each other before separating, Draco stopping out of the hall entirely, Ron following afterward.

Hermione frowned but said, “You mean Tom? What about him?”

Ginny continued to stare out, her skin paling slightly, “Tom… Hermione, what was his last name? His full name.”

“Tom Riddle, but I don’t see—” Ginny ran off. “Ginny!” Hermione chased after her, calling for Ginny as the young girl sped out of the entrance hall and up the stairs to get into the nearest girl’s bathroom on the first floor. Hermione was close on her tail, running in to see Ginny hunched over a sink with running water, openly crying and hyperventilating.

Hermione was at her side in an instant, holding Ginny as he failed to control her breathing. “It’s okay Ginny, it’s alright, what’s the matter? Why did you run away?”

“Riddle—Riddle, Tom Riddle… you said that his name is Tom Riddle,” Ginny muttered.

“Yes, what about him? Is something wrong?” Hermione asked. She helped Ginny wash her face and sit down on a closed toilet. “It’s alright Ginny, tell me what’s the matter? Is Harry okay? Is he or Tom in danger or something?”

Ginny took several breaths to calm herself down enough that she could speak. Still sounding frantic, she looked up at Hermione, pleadingly, “You have to get Harry away from him. He must be under some spell or something!”

“What? Why?”

“Hermione, _he’s_ You-Know-Who!” Ginny said, “Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally meant to have this up on Christmas but uhh this is close enough right?


	10. Dream and Desire

Chapter 10

Dream and Desire

There was a knock on the door, and it opened slowly to reveal a scared-looking secretary. “Madame Time… your siblings are here,” she announced.

Time looked up from her desk, she was too busy watching that blond boy and the redheaded guy making out and gave a sly smile. “Excellent! Bring them in!” she ordered. The secretary flinched and the door closed with a loud slam before opening a second later, two people strolling in. The first was a very beautiful person with caramel skin and yellow eyes, their body was androgynous, giving no reveal to their gender and they had an impish smile and pointed ears. Their hair was short and a loud orange and they barely wore clothing, instead, a complex series of bracelets and jewelry had cloth attached, covering their flat chest and lower regions while seductively revealing teasing glimpses of everything else. They were holding hands with a boy who looked no older than twelve. His eyes were closed, and he had a peaceful expression on their face, his black hair short and a little ruffled. He was wearing pure black pajamas with the cosmos swirling around.

“Desire! Dream! So good to see you two,” Time said, standing from her desk. She held her arms open and walked around her desk to hug the two. Desire gave her a strong hug, their bangles clicking softly as they gave a little squeal.

“Time! It’s been so long darling! How have you been?” they asked.

“Bored,” Time complained. She got to her knee to ruffle Dream’s hair. “And how are you, little brother?”

“Annoyed that you have called me here for something obviously selfish,” Dream spoke without opening his mouth, his voice resonating in their minds. He turned his sleeping face up to Time. “You are crossing the line with your duties again. Older brother told me so.”

“Dream! We weren’t supposed to tell!” Desire said.

“So, younger sibling? I am the third oldest of us,” Dream said, turning his head to look at Desire. “First, there was Time, endless in the void. Then, Death appeared to all finite creatures and Dream to give them comfort in the night.”

“Yes, yes, we know all that, but that is not why we are here,” Desire sighed, “Honestly Dream, you need to learn how to have some fun! And what is more fun than messing with mortals?”

“Anything,” Dream replied. He turned and with his eyes still closed and walked up towards the empty wall where the projections from Time’s crystals were shone. At that moment, it was showing the sleeping figure of Ginny Weasley. She had a troubled expression as she tossed and turned in her bed. “Anxiety, fear, she is plagued by nightmares of her friend being betrayed by the one he loves, the one she knows has a dark history,” he said.

“Yes, we know that,” Time said, “Please keep up, brother.”

“She loves her friend,” Dream continued. “She dreams and inspires to have her love reciprocated, however, the knowledge that he will never love her, that he would choose the boy who tortured her instead… it is heart-wrenching, demoralizing. All of her aspirations are dying right in front of her.”

“How boring, who cares?” Time sighed, “That’s not what I called you two here for! My latest project is getting boring, the romance is too smooth! No bumps, not even from the deadly trial they’re going through! I need something better, something with tension! Drama! Love triangles!”

“Did you know that your perception of a love triangle is wrong?” Dream interrupted. “When it is just two people pining for the same person, it is not a triangle. More like a corner, really.”

Time glared at him, frowning deeply. “Well excuse me, I did not know that a twelve-year-old is now a master of love,” she said.

“Technically darling, you aren’t a master either,” Desire chuckled. “Me, however… I know exactly how to get all the boys, girls, and others feeling steamy.” They moved to Time’s desk and touched the crystal, the scene changing to show Tom and Harry holding hands as they made their way down a corridor. “I’m guessing these two are your subjects, dearie?” they asked.

“Yup, with their boring romance,” Time muttered. “They’re dealing with their anxiety and other boring issues like that one hiding his more evil nature from the other one but who cares about that!” Time huffed and crossed her arms. “I need excitement! Why else would I take that Riddle boy from his own timeline and placed him in Potter’s?”

“Your ambitions to relieve your petty boredom is getting the better of you,” Dream warned. “Stop now or else horrible things will follow.”

“Don’t listen to the pipsqueak, this sounds so much fun!” Desire purred. “I can just imagine it! Creating a wedge between the two of them, which one should I go after? I personally like my boys with glasses.”

“Yes, he seems like the perfect target,” Time smirked. “The name’s Harry Potter.”

“Harry, what a common name,” Desire sighed, “Please tell me that this boy is anything but.”

“Oh believe me he is,” Time chuckled. “Let’s see this one… no wait, that was the other one,” Time frowned. She joined Desire by the crystal and tapped the crystal, “Tell me about Harry Potter,” she demanded, picturing the boy in her mind. A piece of paper appeared on her desk and she picked it up, sharing it with Desire so they could read it together. “Oh right this is the anxious one,” Time said. “Boy’s a painter, keeps painting masks like it means something, I don’t really pay attention.”

“They represent his fears and anxieties, as well as his aspirations and what he wants in life, as well as how everyone sees him,” Dream commented. “His dreams were always the most interesting to me. As are his goals.”

“Who cares about that stuff!” Time said. She sighed and shook her head, “I should have picked when they were older, at least then we could have watched some action,” she muttered to Desire, who chuckled.

“I mean, fourteen is the beginning of that exploratory phase that boys love so much,” they said, their voice purring and oozing with sexual suggestions. “I’m sure that I can give sweet Harry some ideas.”

“That would be interesting,” Time smirked. “How about looks? What will woo a young gay’s heart?”

“Muscles,” Desire said immediately, “muscles never fail. I can be the mysterious sexy muscular student and I’ll woo young Harry away.” They both laughed at the idea, getting excited at the prospect of it.

Dream sighed. He was getting irritated with the two. He swiped his hands and the crystals all dulled; lights flickered as the night sky seemed to encompass the room. For the first time, Dream opened his mouth, speaking with many voices, “Foolish siblings!” He grew, his limbs lengthening drastically, having a boney look as the skin paled to resemble a full moon. His hair lengthened, whipping wildly at unfelt wind and his clothes turned into robes, the cosmos spiraling endlessly. His robes billowed, from the underside the worst of nightmares and night terrors roared, trapped in Dream until ordered to release. Dream’s eyes opened, his pure black orbs staring at the two in front of him. “This is not our duty! We who are above such pettiness and drama! Your actions will lead to your demise and embarrassment! Do not forget your previous failure, Older Sister! Learn restraint or suffer the consequences!”

Dream’s robes opened, the horrors unleashed, and Ginny Weasley woke up screaming.

Harry was very nervous; he and Tom were standing in front of the door that led to his and Draco’s painting room. He glanced at his boyfriend and licked his lips, “Are you sure, Harry?” Tom asked when he noticed Harry’s nervousness.

“Yes, I want to show you,” Harry said. He stepped forward, Tom following, and they went in. The two paintings that Harry and Draco were currently working on sat on their easels, other paints lining the walls. On the left side, countless paintings of various masks filled the wall while on the right side were various kinds of paintings from landscapes to portraits. Tom frowned at them. “Draco’s paintings,” Harry said. “These are mine,” he pointed to the masks.

Harry walked towards the nearest one, a red mask, almost ruby, with a shining gold lion on it, underneath it was labeled _Hero_. “Everyone expects me to save them,” Harry said, “to be the Gryffindor who will always leap into danger.”

Tom hummed and stepped to the mask next to it. It seemed darker, with swirls of emerald light and dark jets of magic, red outlining the eye holes like blood. “Dark Magic?” he asked, and Harry nodded.

“My curiosity with the Dark Arts… and my fall into its embrace,” Harry said, staring at the mask. “This is a mask that I only show for Draco… and you.”

“Draco was the one who first taught you the Dark Arts, correct, darling?” Tom asked. Harry nodded but glanced at Tom.

“Yeah, but not as much as you, Tom,” he said softly, his voice sounding so innocent it made Tom’s heart sing.

Tom gave a small victorious smirk and he pulled Harry to him, kissing his cheek, “I am so happy to corrupt you, my little innocent darling,” he purred.

“Tom!” Harry gasped, his cheeks blushing deeply. He glanced at the others and pulled Tom along, showing off his masks and paintings, describing each one. There was a painting showing Harry as the Heir of Slytherin, Harry the Gryffindor, his secret friendship with Draco and the Slytherins, his friendship with Ron and Hermione. Himself as a Triwizard Champion, and finally, at the end, a painting that looked to have the most care.

It was a full mask with Slytherin colors. Snakes circled the eyes, and there was a heart in the center, filled with what looked to be a mixture of light and darkness, the colors swirling together. Underneath it was just a simple word: _Tom’s._

“It’s my mask for you,” Harry said blushing, his hand moving to his necklace. Tom gasped and stared at it. He reached out but did not touch the painting, instead, he just roamed his eyes freely, memorizing every single small detail, every brushstroke. He felt his own heart beat fast, his cheeks blushed, and turned to Harry. “My darling, is this how you feel for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry said, he stared at Tom and took both his hands in his. “Tom, I love you.”

Tom gasped at Harry. The smaller teen leaned up and kissed Tom fully, wrapping his arms around the taller teen. “I love you,” he repeated.

“Darling, Harry,” Tom said, sounding surprised as he allowed a genuine smile to slip. “I was supposed to say that first.”

Harry chuckled confidently and smiled innocently at Tom, “I’m sorry, but I got tired of waiting,” he said, kissing Tom and allowing him to take full control. “I love you,” he murmured a third time.

“I love you, Harry, you’ll always be mine,” Tom promised. They kissed again and Tom brought Harry to the floor, their hands roaming as they kissed, allowing their bodies to move and respond to the stimulus, their minds being clouded by the intense feelings. They kissed for hours, kissing every part of the other’s face they can reach before deciding it would be better to go back to their dorms and sleep in their beds instead of on the floor in Harry’s painting room. Tom escorted Harry to Gryffindor Tower, kissing him all the way. Harry walked straight to his bed, shedding off his clothes, and barely had the energy to put on his pajamas, falling asleep the moment his body touched his bed.

In his dream, Harry was dressed in Slytherin robes, kissing Tom just as passionately as he was barely an hour ago. They were older, looking around sixteen, and Tom was just as handsome as ever. “Relax Darling,” Tom chuckled. “It is time for your lesson.” He waved his wand and Harry looked around.

They were in the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk was alive and was curled around the statue of Slytherin, barking like a dog. In front of them were two people tied up in thick ropes. The first was Karkaroff, who was glaring at them angrily, a gag in his mouth as he screamed against it. The second, looking rather calm, was Rita Skeeter, dressed in a rather puke-green dress. Harry held Tom’s hand as they walked towards the two, their wands in their free hands. “Now my love, we shall start with the Cruciatus Curse,” Tom said. “If you get it right, I’ll give you a reward,” Tom chuckled, and he let go of Harry’s hand to squeeze his butt. Harry gave a yip and smiled, “Okay!” he said and turned to their victims. “Which one?”

“Them both! But Karkaroff first, he’ll be quieter,” Tom chuckled.

Harry nodded and aimed his wand at Karkaroff. _“You know the spell to use my darling, hiss it our in your beautiful voice,”_ Tom hissed in Parseltongue. Harry obeyed, a smile gracing his face as he hissed out, _“Crucio!”_

Karkaroff screamed through the cloth gag. His body spasmed and jerked as though it was being stabbed by thousands of swords over and over, in no time he fell to his side, his body continuing to spasm violently and drool leaking out of the sides of his mouth as he screamed and screamed until he fell unconscious minutes later. Harry felt powerful, extraordinarily so, and very elated at the results. He smiled widely at his work as Tom clapped, “Very good my love! Very good,” he praised. “You are such a good darling for me!”

Harry’s heart swelled at the compliment. He turned and kissed Tom, “Thank you! It’s because I have such a good teacher,” he said.

“Indeed,” Tom chuckled. “Now, shall we work on the Imperius Curse next or the Killing Curse?” Harry thought for a moment, the good feelings and excitement still swirled inside him, turning into a powerful energy that needed release.

 _“The Killing Curse, Sir,”_ he answered in Parseltongue.

 _“Very good darling, I assume you already know the incantation. Go on now my love, in English this time. I want her to know what was about to happen,”_ Tom chuckled. He patted Harry’s hair down, fixing it gently before kissing his forehead.

“Yes Tom,” Harry said and turned to Rita Skeeter. He gave her an innocent smile as he aimed his wand, “I’m sorry, but I need the practice,” he said. Rita stared at him, and like a light bulb going off in her head, she started to beg.

“Harry—Harry, there’s no need! I’m sorry about what I wrote about you in the articles, but I’ll write better ones! Longer ones! Praising you and your friend there about all of your accomplishments,” she said pleadingly. “There’s no reason to hurt me now, is there? I can easily forget and forgive this whole thing!”

“Hurt you?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. He gave a chuckle, “Silly woman, I’m not going to hurt you. I need to practice killing!”

“Oh,” Skeeter said, “Well there’s no reason to kill me! How about a rat? There are perfectly good rats to practice on! Look over there!” She nodded her head towards the wall and Harry turned to see a rat has indeed scurried into view. This rat, for whatever reason, was missing a finger and Harry recognized it immediately.

He waved his hand and the rat turned into Wormtail, looking just as pathetic and squalor as ever. He trembled at the sight of Harry. “H-harry!” he stuttered. Harry smiled and glanced at Rita Skeeter, “You’re right,” he said. “I can practice on a rat. _Avada Kedavra!_ ” His Killing Curse shone a rather dull emerald green as it struck Wormtail, the traitor falling dead in front of the three of them.

“There you go!” Skeeter said, “See! There was your practice, and now there’s no real reason for murdering me now is there?” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll include this all in your article, of course, talking about how great and powerful you are—”

“It was dull,” Harry sighed, “Tom, why was my Killing Curse a dull color?” He pouted as he turned to his boyfriend. Tom’s arms encircled Harry, his hands resting on his back and butt as they kissed.

“It is alright my love,” Tom purred, “you just need more practice.”

“More practice, of course,” Harry nodded. Tom patted his butt and smiled, “And we have Rita!”

“And Karkaroff,” Tom nodded, “However we should keep him around as a plaything,” he chuckled.

“You’re right, and Viktor will thank us,” Harry smiled.

“He will now get to practicing Harry, your lesson is not done,” Tom ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said. He turned out of Tom’s embrace and aimed his wand at Skeeter. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he looked anything but, “but as Tom said, I need more practice. So, goodbye Rita. _Avada Kedavra_!” A brilliantly bright emerald spell shot from Harry’s spell striking Skeeter, killing her instantly. Her body fell on the floor and Harry grinned and pocketed his wand just in time for Tom to kiss him passionately.

“How about we head into our study?” Tom chuckled.

“Okay Sir,” Harry grinned. Tom waved his wand and Karkaroff flew into the air, chains tying him high to one of the pillars. They made their way to the door to their study and Harry let out a loud whistle, “Dinner!” he announced, and the Basilisk gave out a loud, happy bark, slithering towards the corpses of Rita Skeeter and Wormtail. The couple chuckled at the basilisk’s behavior. “Good girl,” Harry praised, petting her scaly skin as she slithered by, and the two went into their study, the door locking behind them.

Hermione could not believe what she was just told. Tom Riddle, Harry’s boyfriend, is the Dark Lord. It did not make sense, nothing about it made any sense, and yet Ginny’s conviction and pure fear about Tom convinced Hermione. But she had no idea what to do. It was nearly midnight and she was sitting in the common room by the fireplace alone. She went here first, hoping to confront Harry about this, but found the teen asleep in his bed, looking too peaceful to disturb. So for now, she just sat in the armchair, staring at the fireplace lost in thoughts. The others started to come in as well, muttering goodnights to her as they passed, but she did not respond.

There was movement next to her and she glanced to see Ron sitting in the chair next to her, having an equally lost and confused expression. They stared at each other in silence. Neither didn’t know how to talk first or blurt out what they have done and heard. There were still people in the common room and Ron looked around, wishing they would leave before looking back at Hermione.

It was only half an hour later that they were alone in the common room, everyone else filtered off to the dormitories. Ron broke the silence with a heavy sigh and said in a shocked, almost monotonic voice, “I snogged Draco Malfoy for almost two hours.”

“Ginny told me that Tom is Lord Voldemort,” Hermione said in the same tone. It took them both a moment to realize what they said.

“What!?” Ron shouted.

“Malfoy!?” Hermione gasped.

“Never mind Malfoy—what do you mean about Riddle?” Ron demanded.

“Ginny told me that Tom is Lord Voldemort,” Hermione said with a more drastic tone, “She recognized him from the dairy a couple of years ago.”

“Then why doesn’t Harry?” Ron demanded. “You think he would—unless he does but then why—oh my god,” Ron groaned. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said frowning. “It sounds impossible, and there is no way this could slide under Dumbledore’s nose but I’m worried. Ginny sounded and looked so convinced. She was hysterical Ron, it was awful.”

Ron frowned, he felt his emotions spiraling wildly as his lips and body remembered Draco Malfoy but everything else was worried for his younger sister. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s sleeping, and so is Harry,” Hermione said. “I wanted to talk to him about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake him up.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, “I don’t blame you.” The two frowned and Ron looked at the staircase that led to the boys’ dormitories. “Then tomorrow,” he said. “We should talk to him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Hermione nodded.

They both went to bed afterward, suffering from a fitful sleep. Harry, meanwhile, woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, stretching in his bed and giving a good groan as he smiled. He was the first of the boys to wake up, so he made sure to change silently and made his way downstairs into the common room to see that he wasn’t the first awake.

There was already a small crowd of students, sitting around, everyone looking up at the only person standing. Ginny Weasley looked horrible, her hair was sticking out, and there were heavy bags under her eyes. “It’s true!” she yelled out, “Harry will tell us!” she said, looking at him, “Tell us that your boyfriend Tom Riddle is a Dark Wizard!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so good to leave you an evil cliffhanger again.


	11. Dark Rumors

Chapter 11

Dark Rumors

Harry ran from Gryffindor Tower. People were staring at him oddly, almost scared after Ginny’s proclamation. He did not know how to deal with it. He could have told them it was a lie, that Ginny was barking mad, but he couldn’t find his words. When he tried, he found that his throat dried and his legs weak. His masks did not work. He could feel them falling, smashing onto the ground as he ran away, shattering into pieces. He did not know where exactly he was running off to, he just needed to get away, to be somewhere, anywhere, where he can be alone and reassemble his broken masks. But most of all he needed Tom.

To warn him, to hold him. He needed to tell Tom what Ginny said.

His legs brought him to the dungeons, and he stood in front of the Slytherin common room. He used the password Draco gave him, but the walls did not open. In his state, he began to panic. “Open up! Open up damn it!” he demanded in English, slamming his fist on the wall. It stayed still and Harry growled in anger. _“Open up you stupid door!”_ he cursed out in Parseltongue unconsciously, and to his surprise, the wall began to shake and rise, opening up for him. Harry blinked for a moment before stepping in, looking wildly for Tom.

“Potter! Why are you here?” someone demanded, he didn’t look who.

“Where is Tom?” he asked.

“Harry?” Tom stood up from the fireplace and was at Harry’s side in an instant. He looked at the Slytherins around them and brought Harry to the fireplace as the Slytherins all started to filter out until it was just the two of them. Tom held Harry close and frowned at his boy. He could tell immediately that Harry did not have his masks protecting his emotions, his sadness, fear, and anxiety radiating strongly from his Gryffindor. A surge of jealousy and anger coursed through Tom. What could have happened to his Gryffindor? What happened that made Harry take off his masks without him? The only comfort was that Harry came straight to him, and he was clearly in pain. “Relax my darling, you’re okay now,” Tom hushed, “you’re here, with me, now what happened?”

Harry calmed himself and looked at Tom. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I woke up and went down to see almost everyone in the common room. Ginny was talking, more like preaching to them. She looked at me and demanded that I explained why I’m dating a dark wizard. She mentioned you by name. I wanted to argue, to tell her that she’s wrong but when everyone stared at me, I couldn’t. My voice failed me, and I ran away.”

Tom frowned and Harry thought for a moment that he was disappointed in him. “Tom?” he whispered.

Tom saw Harry’s worried expression and shook his head. “Hmm? Sorry, I was wondering how we are going to respond to this,” he said. “Miss Ginny Weasley… I do not think I even had the pleasure of meeting her personally.”

Harry nodded and watched Tom for a moment. A memory hit him, and he said with a small horror, “Yes but I think she must have met you, or at least the younger Voldemort.”

“What do you mean?”

“My second year, her first, when I dealt with the Chamber of Secrets and your Diary… well, I wasn’t the only one who had your diary. Ginny did for most of the year. In fact, she almost died because of it. Dumbledore told us afterward that you owned the diary—well, that Voldemort owned the diary.”

“So she was able to make the connection when she heard my full name? Hmm,” Tom hummed, “Then it seems that we should pay her a visit and deal with this little nest of rumors now. I mean, if only you and Ginny know that Voldemort and I are the same, so to speak, then all we need to do is make her look mad.”

“Mad? But I don’t think I want that, she’s still my friend,” Harry frowned.

“And I am your boyfriend and look at what happened my darling! A single confrontation with her, and your masks all fell away. She needs to be discredited now so that all of our relationships can survive later,” Tom explained.

Harry did not like how much sense Tom was making. He did not want to hurt Ginny, but still, if this got out of hand, if everyone she told started treating him differently, or worse told anyone else, it could lead to trouble for both Tom and Harry. Besides, in Hogwarts secrets and rumors spread stupidly fast. It was better to squash it now. “Okay,” he nodded. “What do we have to do?”

“Simple, we have to destroy her positioning and arguments with our own, using logic,” Tom chuckled. “Let me take the lead, Harry, and people will never believe anything Miss Weasley say ever again.”

Harry did not like the dark look Tom was giving; however, he allowed the Slytherin to help him to his feet. Tom waited as Harry calmed himself, hiding his emotions layer by layer behind his masks until he felt ready to face the world. “I’m ready,” he nodded, looking at Tom neutrally. They left the Slytherin dungeons and walked hand-in-hand until they climbed the stairs directly up to the entrance hall, where coincidentally enough, they found Ginny Weasley walking with a group of Gryffindors. “It’s true,” she said, “Tom Riddle is a horrible, dangerous dark wizard! He is not who he seems, he’s fooling everyone, even Harry Potter, for he is none other than You-Know-Who himself! Dumbledore has to know that—”

“That I am a dangerous wizard who practices the darkest arts? Oh please Weasley, not even a child would be convinced of that,” Tom chuckled.

The group stopped and stared at Tom and Harry. Their hands tightened and stood tall against the crowd. From the crowd, Harry saw both Dean and Seamus looking at Harry. Their eyes both moved, rather comedically, at Harry and Tom’s entwined hands then back at Harry’s face. Seamus pushed forward and exclaimed, breaking the silence, “So it’s true Harry? You’re dating a Slytherin?”

“Yeah, so?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. Seamus held his hands up, “Nothing, nothing,” he said, although he glanced at Tom cautiously.

“Harry! You need to get away from him,” Ginny said frantically. “Why did you run away?”

“Because I—”

“Because he just could not believe the lunacy of it all,” Tom said easily. “Honestly Ginny, think about it, me, the Dark Lord? Why that is even more laughable than Cedric Diggory becoming a Death Eater! Why is it that you even think that I am the Dark Lord? And please do not say that it is because I am a Slytherin for I will be personally insulted.”

“I—because I know,” Ginny said, “You used your diary two years ago to try and open the Chamber of Secrets! You tried to kill me with it!”

“Two years ago?” Tom hummed. “Two years ago I was only twelve years old and still learning from my mother and uncle. Tell me, am I the Dark Lord because my uncle might have taught me some unfriendly spells?”

“So you admit it!” Ginny jumps, “You practice the dark arts! See Harry, he’s dangerous—”

“So do the Durmstrang students,” Tom interrupted, “So are we going to say that all of them are the Dark Lord too? Shall I go and inform Dumbledore that Viktor Krum is the Dark Lord?” That earned a few chuckles from the group of Gryffindors.

“No but, but you’re teaching Harry Dark Magic,” Ginny continued desperately. “That thing Harry did during the first task? There is no way that could have been regular good magic! It has to be illegal!”

Mutters surrounded them and Harry panicked. He glanced at Tom to see that he was still standing calmly. In fact, the edges of his lips were curved, as though he was suppressing a laugh. “Illegal! Do you hear that my love? I’ve taught you illegal spells! Why that is clearly how you’ve won your first task, and not because of your prowess.”

“I—yeah, I didn’t use any Dark Magic, Ginny,” Harry said, hoping he sounded somewhat believable. “I did not even know the spell I used! I just was focused on not dying and my magic made the ivies and vines sprout out and cage the dragon.”

“Making plants grow, why that doesn’t sound especially dark, does it now?” Tom smirked.

“We didn’t hear you shout but your lips were moving, Harry can’t you see that he’s a bad influence on you?” Ginny said, “He could have forced you to use _IT_.”

“So now I’m forcing my boyfriend now?” Tom asked with a raised eyebrow. “I do not like these strokes you are painting me with, Miss Ginny Weasley. Well if you rather be coy and let rumors fly, let me stop you here. Do you think I am forcing Harry to use parseltongue? As if I would ever force that much control over my darling.” Ginny gasped and pointed an accusing finger at Tom, but he stopped her before she could still say anything, “Yes I know that Harry speaks Parseltongue! I would be a rather poor boyfriend if I did not know—or worried about it. It is a part of who he is, not something you want to squander and suppress. Now, if you excuse me, we are both hungry and I would rather see that my boyfriend gets properly fed before you go on to sprout any more lies.”

He pulled Harry along past the crowd and into the Great Hall. Harry took half a step towards the Gryffindor Table, but Tom stopped him with a pull, “You are eating with me today,” he said in a commanding tone. “I don’t want you near any of them. Who knows what could happen.”

“I can take care of myself,” Harry argued but he allowed Tom to pull him towards the Slytherin table. He glanced back at Gryffindor Table to see Ron and Hermione already sitting and looking at him confused. He did his best to give them a sorry wave and pointed between Tom and Ginny who just walked in a second after them, looking clearly upset. The last thing he saw was Hermione’s frown before he turned his attention to the Slytherins.

“Hello Harry,” Blaise Zabini smiled as Harry sat down, “Finally decided to sit with the right people?”

“Not now Zabini,” Tom warned but Harry shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said, and looked at Blaise, giving him a small smile, “Tom dragged me here. Ginny became rather accusatory, and even correctly guessed some of my… other interests, all blaming Tom of course, and she and he had an argument.”

“I see, anything we can do to help?” Blaise asked, looking between Draco and Theo who nodded.

“We’re fine, for now,” Harry said, “Though if you don’t mind, I think I will sit here for a while… besides, I missed you guys! Though if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just be quiet today for breakfast.” He glanced around at the boys, who all nodded. Harry gave them each a smile, kissing Tom’s cheek, and pulled out Tom’s Poe book to read as he ate. He has never really gotten a good chance till now to read it, and it seemed like a better chance than ever.

So he ate and read, getting through _The Masque of the Red Death,_ which took him less than half an hour to do and flipped around to read some of his other works. Harry was surprised that he liked it. Breakfast was soon over, but Harry did not want to stop reading. He had a feeling that if he went back to his Gryffindor friends they would jump on him, demanding question after question, interrogating him until they knew every single second of last night and this morning. And he really did miss his Slytherin friends. He looked at them for a moment and reached for Tom’s hand. “Would you guys mind if I spend the day with you all in the dungeons?” he asked.

“Of course,” Draco said with a swell of pride, he stuck out his chest as he led the way. Harry couldn’t help but notice that Draco and Ron’s eyes met, Draco giving Ron a superior smirk that made Ron fume. He sighed, knowing he would have to deal with that later.

The small group returned to the Slytherin dungeons and Harry and Tom took up a loveseat near the fireplace as Draco, Theo, and Blaise took their normal spots around the fireplace, the other Slytherins glancing at them before moving on, Harry’s presence barely even a bother or noticeable. It was a nice difference, and Harry couldn’t help but smile as he got comfortable against Tom and continued to read his book. He stopped between stories, especially when Draco caught his attention, “Harry, what are you reading?”

He looked up and said, “Tom’s book, he brought it and gave it to me when he was done. It’s a collection of stories from this muggle author.”

“Oh… since when did you read?”

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

Draco shrugged, “I just never saw you read, you know, or at least without complaining to Granger and… Weasley.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he licked his lips before glancing down at his book. “I just felt like reading this,” he muttered, “especially because Tom gave it to me, you know? And uh some of the stories are really interesting.”

“Which one are you reading now?” Tom hummed.

“Uh, _The Murders in the Rue Morgue,”_ he said.

“Ahh, that is a good one,” Tom nodded, “The first detective story for the muggles.” Harry smiled, his heart beating a little faster as he heard the approval in Tom’s voice. He looked down and continued reading, deciding to put his book away when he finished the mystery. The rest of the day, the Slytherins and Harry spent talking in the common room, and Harry felt completely relaxed and happy to spend the day just talking with Blaise, Theo, and Draco. He ate with them as well for Lunch and Dinner, both times he did not even hesitate towards Gryffindor Table, instead, he just continues on towards Slytherin Table, laughing at a joke Blaise told and smiling brilliantly. He was oblivious to the whispers around them, or the strange looks Gryffindors were giving them, or the few resentful glares.

“So Harry, how did you like your day with the Slytherins?” Draco asked, giving him a meaningful look.

“It was nice, relaxing,” Harry answered, “However I do miss Ron and Hermione.” He glanced over at Gryffindor Table and was shocked when he finally saw the others all staring at him resentfully, whispering to each other. He frowned and felt his shoulders slacking as he looked down at his plate. “Tom,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think what we said this morning helped,” he said, glancing at the Gryffindors again. “That, or they do not like that I hung out with you all day.”

“Well, then if you’re ready, you should go and play with the lions,” Tom said. “If you need us, you know that you’re always welcome.” He reached out and caressed Harry’s neck, his thumb swiping the front of his necklace. Harry nodded and kissed Tom properly before standing up. “Wish me luck,” he said.

“Good luck,” The Slytherin boys chorused and Harry steeled himself as he stood up, taking a moment to prepare his masks, and walked towards the doors, staring at Ron and Hermione as he did so. The two stood up and Harry waited for them. The three left together and Harry couldn’t help but feel awkward as they walked silently towards Gryffindor Tower.

“So,” he began awkwardly. “How was the ball for you two?”

“Nice,” Hermione answered shortly while Ron just grunted something. The silence continued and Harry couldn’t help but focus on it, on the distance between them. It was as though something clicked between them, a barrier has developed between them. He felt othered, lost, and alone between his two best friends. This thought scared Harry completely. He started to panic once more and tried to think about how he can fix this, how he can destroy the invisible barriers between him and his best friends and appease whatever wrong or awkwardness between them.

_I’m a shapeshifter at Poe’s masquerade. Hiding both face and mind, all free for you to draw…_

“So about today,” he started to say.

“Ginny told us,” Hermione said awkwardly. “She actually told me last night… I found her crying in the bathroom.”

“Oh,” was all Harry said.

“Harry, mate… are you in trouble?” Ron asked.

“What? No!” Harry said, “Look, Tom isn’t Voldemort,” he said plainly. “Ginny is just overreacting. I did not even think it would be a problem, you know, with Tom and the diary but Ginny made the connection and I did not even get the chance to talk with her, she just jumped off her assumptions.”

“But Harry, I get that but still we heard that Tom _humiliated_ her,” Hermione frowned.

“And it doesn’t help that you’re with _fucking_ Malfoy all day!” Ron sneered, crossing his arms. Harry blinked at him and frowned.

“Ron, what’s your problem?” he demanded.

“Malfoy! You were with Malfoy!” he pouted, “Stupid, evil, disgusting, slimy, sniveling Malfoy!”

Harry sighed, “I was with Tom, I wanted to spend the day with Tom especially after what happened this morning. I spent most of the day just reading honestly.” He pulled out his book for emphasis and placed it back. “I barely talked with Dr—Malfoy. Mostly Tom and Blaise, and sometimes Theo.”

“That’s fine then,” Ron muttered, “as long as you don’t talk to Malfoy.” Harry just nodded, thinking that this white lie is better than trying to convince Ron that Draco wasn’t a prat all the time.

“Harry, we still need to talk about the other stuff,” Hermione said. “People have been talking about you and Tom all day, saying that you’ve been learning dark magic.”

“Let them talk,” Harry sighed, “I’m not in the mood to deal with rumors and we know the truth.”

“But what if Dumbledore hears it? Or the other two headmasters?” Hermione asked. Harry just shrugged.

“Dumbledore knows that I don’t do the Dark Arts, and even if he has a suspicion I think he would be smart enough to ask me directly instead of believing in rumors,” Harry said. “As for the other two, who cares? Madame Maxime outright screeched at me bringing my boyfriend to the ball, and Karkaroff is a Death Eater, Sirius told me so.”

Hermione looked at Harry for a moment before nodding. “Alright, that’s fine.”

Harry smiled and felt the barriers between them disappearing. He felt the same as ever with the two of them once more, and as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower, he felt that they were closer.

The rumors spread over the rest of the break, but Harry found that he did not care. He had his friends, and that was all that mattered. Ginny still was not talking to him, but it was more out of embarrassment he guessed as whenever he saw him, her cheeks blushed. The younger years avoided Harry all together, some of them even stopping talking whenever he was near, while some of the older years just gave Harry hesitant glances as though he was going to blow up. He felt like he was supposed to be angry at them, that he was supposed to convince them all personally that he wasn’t the bad guy, but he couldn’t be bothered. He had his friends, most of his dormmates (Padma and Lavender were avoiding him) and that was all he needed.

It was the day before classes resumed, and Harry was walking outside to meet Tom. It was a cloudy day, but rather warm. He did not need to bundle up with every scarf and pair of mittens he owned, instead just wearing his heavy cloak and a scarf. There weren’t a lot of people out on the grounds, mainly Durmstrang students stretching their legs out from staying on the boat for a long time. One student was walking his way, and Harry couldn’t help but stare at him.

He looked a couple of years older than Harry, around Krum’s age, and just like Krum, he was tall and fairly muscular with dark hair that was naturally ruffled and pale skin that looked to just start being tanned. His eyes reminded Harry strangely enough of charcoal, and he was dressed in regular Durmstrang uniform, but it looked good on him, he filled it out. And for some reason, he was heading straight towards Harry.

Harry stopped in his tracks unintentionally and just waited for him to pass, wondering where it was that he was going. He thought that maybe the student would head inside for some warmth, but instead, their eyes met, and this mysterious student walked towards Harry, stopping only just in front of Harry. He was taller than Harry (a rather easy feat really) and his chest was at eye level with Harry, forcing him to look up slightly. “Hello, _krasiv,”_ the older teen said, his voice practically purring like a tiger or lion. “I have heard of your beauty, but now is the first time I’ve to get to see it up close.”

“Uh… who are you?” Harry asked awkwardly. He glanced around, wondering why this person has decided to talk to him, and how he should react. And, if needed, how he can get away. Did he hear the rumors? Is he going to accuse Harry of being a Dark Wizard like so many people are whispering? Nobody has been bold enough to step up and accuse him as such, but Harry had a feeling that would soon change.

“Vaska,” the mysterious teen said, holding out his hand. Harry stared at it for a moment before deciding to shake it. Vaska had a strong grip and surprised Harry when he pulled his hand up and kissed it with a smirk, “That is what you Westerns do when you meet a beautiful boy, yes?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Uhh, not really,” Harry said, although his cheeks were blushing. He pulled his hand away and bit his lip, “Look, it’s nice to meet you but I have to go—”

“Go? Where can a beautiful boy be going in such a hurry? It is cold out here, why not stay and we can talk and warm each other inside?” Vaska asked, his charcoal eyes having a glint in them that made Harry wary. He took a step back, but Vaska met it.

“Look,” Harry said strongly, “I’m sorry but I have to go, I’m meeting my boyfriend and he’s actually very possessive.” He stepped past Vaska and for a moment thought that the boy would try to grab him, but he didn’t. The teen just allowed Harry to keep walking.

“Very well, Harry! I will just speak with you later,” Vaska called out, and with a shudder, Harry continued to walk without ever looking back.

He found Tom at the edge of the Black Lake surprisingly with Viktor Krum, the two in a deep whispered conversation. Harry decided to try and sneak towards them to catch their conversation. Their voices were low, but he kept hearing small words like fire and spells and decided that they were talking about dark magic or something. “Tom, there you are,” he said when he was near enough. Tom just glanced at him and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his cheek.

“We’ll talk later Krum, I’m very interested in that spell you mentioned,” Tom said. He looked at Harry and said, “Krum here was just explaining about a fire spell that can work underwater. It is labeled Dark Magic, naturally, for it seems unnatural, but it is something still worthwhile I believe.”

Krum just grunted a goodbye and nodded, waving to Tom and giving Harry a strange, knowing look. “Does he know?” Harry immediately asked.

“About our little adventure into the Dark Arts? No, however he does know about our, say, unique relationship,” Tom smiled as he turned to face Harry, his hand staying on Harry’s waist as he other moved to Harry’s neck, his thumb once against swiping at Harry’s necklace. “The Durmstrang students know more about the Dark Arts than any student here will normally learn, they personally learn the dangers of it, as well as its more addicting qualities.” Tom chuckled and gave Harry a knowing smile, “So naturally, I want to take advantage of their time here and learn all I can so that I can teach you, and together we can see how Parseltongue affects it. I’m very curious about how it will affect a dark spell that casts fire underwater.”

“Yeah, that does sound useful,” Harry muttered. He thought for a moment about bringing up the strange student Vaska he ran into but decided against it. He didn’t want to ruin his and Tom’s personal time. Instead, he just rested his head against Tom’s shoulder and sighed, “So what else are you going to teach me?”

“Everything my darling, but for now, I think we should just enjoy ourselves. How about a walk and then go bother the house-elves for some hot chocolate?” Tom suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” Harry grinned.


	12. Broken Masks

Chapter 12

Broken Masks

The rest of the break was unusually quiet. Harry did not see that strange Durmstrang Student in a while, and he spent more time with Tom and his Slytherin friends. It felt good being with them, like a stress relief after everything. He made sure to spend time with Ron and Hermione, naturally, however, he couldn’t help but notice strange looks from his fellow Gryffindors. He didn’t know why he was getting such strange looks; he didn’t feel like he was doing anything wrong. He was being himself for a change. He had his masks on still, yes, however, he found that he could afford to lose one or two of them after everything that happened.

It was harder, however, hiding his friendship with Draco from Ron. Sometimes, Harry just wished that the two would get along. He did not want to hide anything from either of his group of friends, and that also meant that he did not want to worry about what others would think of him. So, on the second to last day of break, Harry wanted to hang out outside with his Slytherin friends and boyfriend, regardless of what people would think. So he did, and though the group has gotten strange looks from the other houses, nobody came to bother them. Especially when the boys, sans Tom, started a snowball fight, and Harry and Blaise spent almost ten full minutes jinxing their snowballs to home onto Draco. It was a fun day.

But now, the new term has started, and with it, came a disturbing dream for Tom. It started off simple enough, he was relaxing on a chaise lounge, Harry laying on his lap as he fed the younger boy grapes. Harry looked wondering, wearing a shirt that revealed his neck, on which was a black leather collar with Slytherin’s emblem at the front. Snakes were slithering around, but the boys were happy, content in the other’s presence. “Hey, Tom,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, my darling?” Tom hummed.

“I love you,” Harry said. Those magical three words. Ever since Harry said them, those words ran in Tom’s mind, whirling around like a stabilizer whenever the teen started to feel worried or angry. Harry loved him. His Harry Potter, his darling, loved him. And he loved Harry back. Tom wondered now and again how it was that the other him could have lost this ability. How he, Voldemort, have thought that the perfect and logical thing for him to do was to try and kill a baby. It was madness, and Tom wanted to avoid it at all costs.

“I love you too, Harry,” Tom said. He watched the snakes move for a moment and looked down. “Harry?”

His darling was gone. He looked up to see that the room they were in was gone too. It was different, dreadfully so. Everything looked as though it was covered in a thick layer of dust, old furniture left forgotten and neglected by the years’ past. This was far from Slytherin’s study, and Tom felt both curious and hesitant about where he was. The floorboards creaked under his steps. He was in a small room, the wooden door hanging open and out of it, Tom could see a small hallway that led to another room. The door to that room was slightly ajar, and out of it, Tom could hear sniveling. _Where is this?_ Tom wondered. He walked slowly, his hand going to his pocket to find that he did not have his wand.

A bolt of fear shocked through him, but he steeled his emotions as he continued through, stepping closer and closer across the small hallway to the opened door. He could hear a soft hissing along with the small crying. The hissing was snakes, he figured, but the crying was strange. It was definitely not a baby nor a child, it sounded older, more pathetic. He reached the door and stood to its side, listening in.

“M-Master, I’m sorry, please show mercy!” a voice sobbed.

A cold voice answered the sob, “Mercy? There is no such thing.” There was a hiss, and then the first man’s screams filled the air. Tom peeked his head in to see a short, fat man screaming in pain in front of a chair turned away from the door, whoever was sitting in it was obviously the one casting the Cruciatus Curse. Tom watched as the disgusting rat-faced man continued to be tortured, crying loudly between his screams. “I did not know Master! Please!” the man begged. “Nobody knew Potter had that much power!”

Potter? They were talking about his darling? His Harry? Why? Tom took a cautious step forward, thankful that the floorboard did not squeak under him. The torture stopped and the man immediately crawled to the chair, looking at whoever sat there beggingly. “Nobody knew Master—we still do not know how Potter made those snakes.”

“Foolish imbecile,” the sitting man cursed, his voice serpent-like. “You are nothing, worthless. Not even good enough to be dinner for Nagini.” The pathetic man whimpered, his body stifling, clearly afraid of whoever Nagini was. Tom heard a soft hissing behind him and turned to see a large thick snake moving silently towards him and the door. He hoped that it did not notice him, and watched, relieved, as the snake passed without even glancing his way. Which should not be. Snakes were always drawn to him because of his gift and lineage. They always found him, and always looked his way, and yet this one…

 _“Master, can I eat the rat?”_ the snake asked, slithering towards the chair. Tom presumed that the snake was asking about the sobbing, terrified man in front of them, and wondered if the owner would react or have some inkling on what she wanted.

 _“No Nagini, Wormtail is still of use to us. We need him when the time is right.”_ Tom froze. That was parseltongue. It was no use denying it. The owner of the snake Nagini spoke Parseltongue. But that could not be! It was impossible! There were only three people in the whole world who could speak Parseltongue: Himself, his lovely darling, and Lord Voldemort, the other version of himself. But wait, then that means…

Tom’s mind moved fast as he worked it out. He was spying on Lord Voldemort. He was spying on the insane version of himself. The one who dared to killed his Harry before Tom has ever met him yet! He took another cautious step forward. Maybe he could learn something useful…

“It does not Wormtail if Potter has somehow used Parseltongue to cast magic, though impossible and ridiculous the idea seems,” Lord Voldemort drawled. “Our spy is still watching him and his friends. He will make sure Harry Potter is where he is supposed to be when the time is right.”

Spy? There was a spy in Hogwarts? Who could it be? They were watching Harry, making sure that Harry won? Could the spy be the reason his love was in this deadly duel? Tom needed to learn more. He needed to know who this spy was, and eliminate him. “Y-Yes my Lord, of course, my Lord,” the man named Wormtail stuttered. His eyes never left the snake as he cautiously stood up.

“You are dismissed,” Voldemort said dismissively, “go be useful, find dinner for Nagini before you become it instead.”

Wormtail made a scared little noise and scurried off, running right past Tom as though he never saw him. Now it was just Tom and Voldemort. _I need to learn more, and perhaps put this to an end._ So with this thought, and honest curiosity, Tom stepped into the room and slowly walked around the chair until he could see clearly who was sitting in it.

It was no man. Not even rather human. Instead, the creature that looked to be in the chair was small, barely humanoid with scarred pink flesh that looked more like tendons of muscles. Its head was enormous compared to the rest of its frail body, its legs and arms barely bones. And yet Tom could feel the man’s cold power, like a flood of Dark Magic crashing over him. It was quaint, actually, and it would put any other person to fear, and yet Tom felt familiarly calm. He stared at the monster curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side. “So, you are the great Lord Voldemort,” he said out loud.

To his surprised, Voldemort looked up and their eyes met, ruby-red eyes staring at his brown. “Yes, and you appear to be a phantom of my former self,” Voldemort said. “How is it that you are here? You are quite too young looking to be my diary or any other…”

“Diary? Ah yes, I’ve heard about that,” Tom muttered. “Though, it is rather funny, isn’t it? I am here, whole and seemingly pure, while you are broken. A waste.”

“Watch your tongue,” Voldemort warned, but much to his surprise Tom just laughed.

“Watch my tongue? What for? You hold no fear over me. You are just a failed version,” Tom sneered. Voldemort was still holding his wand. He aimed it directly at Tom, his red eyes seething with anger. Tom took a step closer, and both reacted at the same time. Tom reached for Voldemort’s frail neck, intent on snapping it as Voldemort hissed out _“Avada Kedavra!”_

The spell phased through Tom, hitting the wall behind him as Tom’s hand went through Voldemort, unable to touch. They stared at each other, dazed for just a moment before Tom stepped back. “Who is your spy?” he asked.

“We cannot kill each other? Why is that?” Voldemort muttered.

“Who is your spy?” Tom repeated.

“Will you fail to kill him as well as you’ve failed to kill me?” Voldemort asked.

“Believe me, I never fail with my punishments,” Tom promised. “You should know just how terrifying I am at my young age.”

“Then you should know that I will never tell you,” Voldemort said. “Though I do hope you enjoy being paranoid as you flail about trying to find my spy. It does not matter, I will soon have my body back, and deal with you and Potter both.”

“You—” The room and Voldemort disappeared, and Tom found himself floating in a void. He looked around fruitlessly. “Voldemort! Where are you?” he demanded. No one answered. He searched through the void, but all he saw was nothing. Then, a light, and the figure of a small boy with his eyes closed, and then he was back in his bed in the Slytherin dormitory.

It was morning, and Tom felt lost for only a moment. It was a dream, yet it felt more. He was in front of Voldemort, he heard that there was a spy in Hogwarts. A spy that wanted to harm his Harry. He could not have that. He had to find this spy and kill him. But first, he needed to recollect himself. Tom was useless if he was panicking, and he refused to even entertain such a ridiculous notion.

Harry first noticed something was wrong when nobody returned his good mornings. It was a small thing, even he found himself strange for being so awake in the mornings, which was something the teenager usually hated; however, it was still off-putting. He smiled at his fellow Gryffindors, saying “morning” or “Hello” only to be greeted by blank stares and even some scoffs. It was currently the middle of January, and Harry could not take it anymore. He was with Ron, Hermione, and Tom in between classes. “Have you guys been noticing people acting odd lately?” Harry asked as he held Tom’s hand openly. He was getting better at that, showing his affection for his boyfriend in front of everyone.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Not you, Ron, the others,” Harry said. “I mean yesterday I asked Lavender for a spare quill because I know that she has dozens of them, and she actually took one out and broke it in front of me saying that she doesn’t have any! I mean what the hell is going on?”

“That is concerning,” Hermione frowned. “Did you do anything to get Lavender angry?”

“I didn’t do anything and that’s not the point Hermione! I mean even first years are starting to avoid me!” Harry said.

“You’re just imagining things Harry, I’m sure everything is fine,” Hermione said. “Though maybe Lavender is jealous that you have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah mate, maybe she just fancied you and now she’s angry that she can’t, you know, hold your hand and stuff,” Ron said.

“Weasley, where exactly you get these outlandish ideas is beyond even me,” Tom sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as though he had a headache. “They are glaring and acting weird around Harry because of his friendliness towards me and other Slytherins. It doesn’t help that during the first task he did magic none have seen before, as well as your sister’s little outburst on Boxing day.”

“Tom! You can’t blame Ginny for this, she has reasons to be concern—”

“Because I share the name with the Dark Lord, yes, yes I know,” Tom huffed. Hermione frowned deeply at that.

“This isn’t a joking matter, Tom. This is completely serious, and with the second task coming up next month, I don’t know what will happen,” she said.

“I know this is a serious matter, Granger, and I am taking this with the seriousness that it deserves,” Tom fired back. “Point of the matter is that the Gryffindors does not care nor like Harry’s relationship with me, nor any Slytherins. Take Ron’s great disdain for Draco Malfoy for example.”

“HEY!” Ron yelled a bit too loudly, “Malfoy’s an evil slimy git! This has nothing to do with him being in Slytherin!”

“Sure, Ronald,” Tom said shortly. “Point of the matter is, the lions do not like that Harry plays with snakes. No Hermione, we will not argue about this, I am right,” he said, seeing Hermione opening her mouth. “This is a side of my darling that the others have not seen before, and they are reacting without thinking.”

“Tom, you don’t need to defend me like that,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

Tom just shrugged and looked at Ron and Hermione. “Just tell me this, if I was not Harry’s boyfriend, would either of you try to befriend me?”

“TOM!”

“I’m sorry Harry, but it has to be answered,” Tom said. The small group stopped. “Well?”

“Of course they would—you’re amazing!” Harry said, scoffing at the idea that they wouldn’t have any relationship. “Right guys?” Ron and Hermione did not answer right away. Hermione’s cheeks went pink as they looked between each other awkwardly. The silence continued and Harry’s conviction faltered. “Guys?”

Ron and Hermione continued to be silent. Hermione cleared her throat and said, “Well, I mean Tom is a good student…”

Harry frowned. “If I wasn’t dating Tom, or wasn’t around, would you guys even talk to him?” he asked in a disbelieving voice. Ron shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ron, tell me the truth,” Harry said.

“Well, mate—”

“Tell me!”

“No!” Ron blurted out. “Honestly, Harry no!” He seemed to have realized what he said and clasped his hand over his mouth. Harry swallowed heavily and willed his tears back. He looked at Hermione, “You too?” he asked.

“We’d have no reason to,” she whispered.

“Oh… I see,” Harry said. He stared at the two for a moment and turned away. “Come on Tom…”

“Harry no we don’t mean it like that,” Hermione said quickly.

“Yeah mate, Riddle’s not half bad,” Ron said. “He’s a decent bloke, it’s just that if you and him weren’t dating we had no reason to even say hi to him, you know?”

Tom shook his head, frowning, “Wrong way of putting it Ronald,” he said. Harry tugged Tom’s arm and the Slytherin shook his head and allowed himself to be pulled away from Ron and Hermione. In their next class, Harry made it a point to sit with the Slytherins, sending hurt looks at his friends on the other side of the classroom. When class was over, Harry left before Ron and Hermione could corner him. Tom sent Draco, Blaise, and Theo to catch up with Harry as he stopped the two Gryffindors. “Give him time,” he said shortly.

“Look we said the wrong things, alright? Harry should know that we’re still friends with him,” Ron said.

“He does, however right now he is not in the best place to be thinking rationally,” Tom said. “His house is turning against him because he dares to have friends outside of it, specifically friends with those he considered ‘the enemy’ and now his two best friends basically said that if he wasn’t around, they would have no reason to befriend his boyfriend. Think about how Harry might react to this.”

“So what? We’re supposed to stay away from him while Malfoy of all people gets to have his slimy hands all over him?” Ron demanded.

“Ron’s right Tom, we’re his best friends, we know Harry best of all,” Hermione said. “We should have the chance to talk to him about this.”

“And you will—once I’ve calmed him down. As for Draco, Weasley, he is Harry’s friend, just as well as you are. All of us are his friends, and we are all looking out for the best of him. It is true that you two and I know things about him that others do not, however the same can be said with Draco,” Tom said. He glanced back for a moment, “I do not know if this is my place to say it, however, did you know that they paint together? Whenever life gets too hectic for the boys, they go to a special room and paint.”

“Harry paints?” Hermione asked.

“He does, and his art is beautiful,” Tom nodded, “as is Draco’s. The point of the matter is that painting is something they have together. It is strictly theirs. The others know about it, yes, however at the end of the day it is still Harry and Draco’s passion. Why, only two people have seen Harry’s paintings, myself and Draco.”

Ron did not look happy. He frowned deeply and stared at Tom. “How long have this been going on?” he demanded.

“Does it matter?” Tom asked.

Ron huffed and pushed past Tom. The Slytherin simply watched Ron for a moment before looking at Hermione expectantly. She looked at a loss of words and walked past Tom. The Slytherin turned on his heels and followed after his darling.

He found Harry sitting outside with the other Slytherins. He looked more angry than sad. “I can’t believe them! I mean are they even thinking?” he raved. “Tom! I’m so sorry,” he said when he saw his boyfriend.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Tom said, waving his hand to the others to move away. They did so and Tom sat next to Harry. “Look, maybe the weird looks from your housemates have been too much and Ron and Hermione’s answer was just the breaking point. You three are still friends, it’s just logical that they wouldn’t befriend me without you being a bridge.”

“But you’re the best thing to happen to me, Tom!”

“That is just your hormones speaking,” Tom sighed. “Look, Harry have you figured out the egg yet?”

Harry stared at Tom. Why was he talking about the stupid egg when all of Gryffindor, including his best friends, was acting against him? “Uh no, but Tom—”

“What was it that Diggory said?” Tom mused, “About taking a bath with the egg? Perhaps we should take advantage of that.”

Harry stared at Tom for a moment. Was he serious? Still, it was something that Harry needed to work on. He nodded and sighed as he leaned into Tom. “Alright,” he muttered. “We can go to the prefect’s bathroom tonight. I still remember where it is.”

“Good boy,” Tom smiled softly. They agreed that Harry should eat dinner with the Slytherins once more, Harry more often forced himself onto them, before separating momentarily for Harry to get the egg, his Invisibility Cloak, as well as the Marauder’s Map.

The two met in front of the statue of Boris the Bewildered, a lost-looking wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands. Harry located the right door, leaned in close to it, and whispered the password just as Cedric told him, “Pine fresh.”

The door cracked open and the two slipped inside, Tom bolting the door behind them as Harry looked around. Harry’s first thought was that it wouldn’t be bad becoming a prefect if it meant he could use this bathroom. It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edge, each with a different colored jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock.

Tom walked to the pool-sized bathtub and started fiddling with the handles as Harry looked around curiously. How was any of this supposed to help him with the egg? He turned to ask Tom only to blush immediately. Tom was getting undressed, putting his robes on the side of the bathtub. Harry immediately looked away as Tom turned towards him. “Are you coming, Harry?” he asked innocently.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded. “Uh I’ll just wait until you’re in… and please look away.” Tom just chuckled at Harry’s reaction. Harry heard the water splashing softly as Tom lowered himself into the bath. He glanced back, to make sure that Tom was _not_ looking at him before removing his robes himself and brought everything at the edge of the Olympic pool bathtub and slipping in himself.

The water felt perfectly refreshing, with just the right amount of bubbles, which were all rainbow-colored. He and Tom stared at each other for a moment and Tom closed the distance, kissing Harry as he pressed their bodies together. Harry’s face went red and he moved away. “Tom!” he shouted, his voice squeaking.

“I’m sorry darling, it is just you are too beautiful,” Tom chuckled. “But you’re right, we have more important things to worry about.” He moved to the edge and took the egg. Harry moved next to him and they both stared at the golden egg for a moment. “Now what does water have to do with the egg?” Tom muttered.

“Water?”

“I mean why else would Cedric tell you to bring the egg to water? Krum mentioned it as well,” Tom said. “When we were talking spells, he specifically mentioned a Dark Magic spell that allows you to make fire underwater. A useful thing, if your task involves being under.” He glanced at Harry and smirked, pushing the egg under the water and opened it.

Harry flinched reflexively, ready for the loud screeching, but it never came. Instead, a gurgling song was coming out of it, a song whose words neither boy couldn’t distinguish through the water. “What’s it saying?” Harry asked. “Should we also be under the water too?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Tom chuckled, as though he already knew. He closed the egg and both boys took a large breath and slid under the surface just as Tom opened the egg once more, and now they could hear a chorus of eerie voices singing to them from the open egg.

_"Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you're searching, ponder this;  
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you'll have to look,  
And recover what we took,  
But past an hour — the prospect's black,  
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Harry let himself float back upward and broke the bubbly surface, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Tom wiped his face and stared at the egg curiously. “Interesting,” he muttered. “Do you need to hear it again, love?”

“Oh yeah, do you mind?” Harry asked. He took a deep breath and plunged back under along with Tom. They broke the surface a second time, Tom looking more convinced. Harry needed to listen to the egg three more times before he had it memorized. “So I have to go and look for people who can’t be heard above the ground,” Harry muttered. “So… that would be underwater? Because we heard the song underwater?”

“Seems like it,” Tom hummed. “But where exactly?”

“The Black Lake obviously! That’s the only big area of water I can think of,” Harry answered immediately. He looked at the picture of the sleeping mermaid and thought out loud. “Tom, would you happen to know if merpeople live in the lake?”

“Actually yes,” Tom said. “When I was in my first year, I remember Abraxas Malfoy angering one of the mermen. It was really funny.”

“That’s it,” Harry said excitedly. “That’s the second task! I have to go and find the merpeople in the lake and...and...”

But he suddenly realized what he was saying, and he felt the excitement drain out of him as though someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He was a horrible swimmer; he’d never had much practice. Dudley had had lessons in his youth, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, no doubt hoping Harry would drown one day, hadn’t bothered to give him any. “How am I going to breathe?” he asked, “let along swim!”

“Those are problems we can work around later,” Tom said. “For now, I want to figure out the rest of the poem. The line ‘We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss’ has me thinking. What is it that they will take? Surely it cannot be a simple object, can it? Like your cloak or your map. Not many people even know you have them.”

“So then, what can it be?” Harry asked. “They can’t… they can’t take my Firebolt,” he said with a twinge of sadness.

“No, no I do not think it will be anything materialistic,” Tom said.

“Then what? Besides my few things, the only thing I can think of that I’ll sorely miss is—” Harry did not want to complete the thought, his stomach once again twisting at it.

“Me,” Tom said. “I think it would be best to go under the assumption that they will steal the person you care most about. Such as your boyfriend.”

“But that’s horrible!”

“Then it will definitely be me they’ll be stealing,” Tom said, nodding in confirmation. “So that makes things simple, we will simply have to figure out a way for you to locate and retrieve me in an hour’s time.”

“You say like it’s all so simple,” Harry muttered.

“The solutions to dangerous takes are usually are,” Tom shrugged. “Either way, let’s forget about the egg for a moment, I want to clean my boyfriend and help him relax.” Harry was all for the idea. They placed the egg back on the ledge and spent an hour cleaning each other and relaxing in the tub. By the time they were done, the bubbles were all done, and Harry felt properly relaxed and sleepy. They toweled down and redressed. “Tomorrow, I want you to start practicing the fire spell, I’ll teach you the wand movements. It will be difficult as it’ll naturally be a non-verbal spell, meaning you cannot say it aloud,” Tom said. “But I’m sure that we will get the hang of it.” He kissed Harry, stroking his thumb across his necklace. “I love you, my darling.”

“Love you too, Tom,” Harry said.

They went their separate ways, and once he was back in his own bed, Tom was happy to have dreamed of Harry again, this time uninterrupted by Voldemort.

Harry, however, in the spirit of his Gryffindorness, seemed to have had a more eventual evening which he told Tom after Charms the following day. “I told you, I had to give my map to Professor Moody, he helped me out with Snape and Filch who almost caught me out of bed! But I was in my Invisibility Cloak. The strange thing is, however, that according to Snape and Moody, someone broke into Snape’s office and stole potion ingredients!”

“Potion ingredients? Strange,” Tom muttered.

“The stranger thing is that I saw, on the map. It was Mr. Crouch,” Harry said. “Mr. Crouch was in the office! I told Moody as such and he took my map.”

“Why would Crouch be stealing from Professor Snape?” Tom asked, “Last I heard the man was ill. Which was why we had to suffer, I mean entertain, that other Weasley.”

Harry nodded and looked back at Ron and Hermione. They did not make up yet, and he wanted to, however, Harry did not know how to approach them. The other Gryffindors too were continuing to act weird. “Yeah, but I don’t know why Mr. Crouch would be here if he is still sick. Could this be connected in any way with who put my name in?”

“It’s possible,” Tom said. “Anything is possible at this point; I feel we need more information.”

“Well, if you need information, I’m the boy for it,” a voice answered. The two turned to see a handsome Durmstrang student standing in front of them. He smiled at them and winked at Harry. “Hello Harry, last time we met I think I went on a bit too strong, so can we try again? My name is Vaska.”

“And I am Harry’s boyfriend, Tom Riddle,” Tom said stepping between the two. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Well, I am from Durmstrang.”

“And I’ve met all of the students who came from Durmstrang, and yet we have not met yet,” Tom hummed.

“Oh, I spend most of my time on the ship,” Vaska said easily. “Any way you said that you needed information? I would be happy to help.”

“Oh? And why would you?” Tom asked. “We are technically enemies in this competition. Shouldn’t you want your school to win?”

“How does this Mr. Crouch business help my school win?” Vaska asked. “I will not help with the tournament, in the name of, what do you say, fair competition, however anything else I will be glad to help with, especially for such a beautiful boy and his lovely boyfriend.” Vaska purred. Harry took a step back and Tom scowled. “I tried too hard again, didn’t I? My mistake, I desire to be friends with you, Harry. From what I’ve heard, you are a bit lacking in that.”

“Friends,” Harry muttered. He glanced at Tom and thought for a moment. “If you want to be friends, then maybe you can help us with something.”

“Indeed,” Tom said. “A task from me specifically. I want you to keep an eye on your headmaster. Tell me if anything odd happens, if he acts unusual. You will report directly to me.”

Harry looked at his boyfriend oddly, “What does Karkaroff have to do with Crouch?”

“Nothing, hopefully,” Tom hummed. “This is about something else.” Harry just nodded while Vaska smiled at the two of them.

“Then I’ll do it! I’ll tell you all there is to know about the headmaster this time tomorrow!” Vaska moved forward, as though to hug them goodbye, but stopped himself. Instead, he held out his hand and shook theirs. “So long, boys,” he said.

After that strange event, Harry’s day was nice. He sat with Ron and Hermione, and though they did not talk about the argument yesterday, there was no tension between them, as though it never happened. He ate and laughed with his two friends during dinner and Harry brought them both back up to speed as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. “Hang on, isn’t that your trunk, Harry?” Ron asked as they stepped onto the seventh floor.

In front of the portrait of the fat lady was indeed Harry’s trunk, tossed on its side with his clothes thrown about on its open lid. “Why is it there?” Hermione asked, “this is such a tactless joke.”

The three moved to fix the trunk, only to see a nasty message on the trunk lid. _Slytherin Whore! Traitor!_ “What the hell? Who did this?” Ron fumed. He yelled the password to the fat lady, who tutted as her portrait swung open, and the three walked in to see what looked like the rest of Gryffindor House gathered in the common room, as though waiting for them. “What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“Why are Harry’s trunk and clothes outside? And who wrote that awful message?” Hermione asked.

Katie Bell stepped forward, glaring at Harry. “Because he’s not welcomed here anymore. We all talked about it and Potter shouldn’t be here anymore!”

“Katie you’re joking,” Hermione said.

“It’s true!” a tall teen with wiry blond hair said. “Potter spends all his time with those snakes! And you heard the rumors that he uses Dark Magic! He probably hisses around with snakes in his off time too.”

“Excuse me? You’re insane!” Harry said.

“Not as insane as you for sleeping with the enemy!” the same teen yelled.

“My boyfriend has nothing to do with this!” Harry yelled. His hand going for his wand automatically. Everyone else stepped back and he scoffed. “What? Scared I’ll hex you with dark snake magic?” he gave a nasty laugh.

“Uh mate… you’re not actually going to do that, are you?” Ron asked.

“What? No—look just move out of the way so I can put my trunk back,” Harry said.

“Nobody wants you here!”

“That’s not true, we do,” the unmistakable voice of Neville Longbottom yelled out. “I’m sorry Harry! We tried to stop them! But McLaggen pushed me and he even punched Seamus!”

Anger began to rise in Harry. He glared at them all. “So what? Because I have Slytherin friends and a Slytherin boyfriend I’m now a whore huh? A traitor?”

“It’s not just that Harry, we’re all scared,” Lavender Brown said. “That thing you did during the First Task… those snakes you summoned... that’s no ordinary spell.”

“Yeah who knows where you got that snakey spell, or what else you can do! And there are also those rumors about that Riddle kid.”

“Look we’re doing this for our own safety.” Ginny Weasley stepped out from the crowd. “I’m sorry Harry but surely you’ll understand? I mean, I tried to help you by telling everyone that—”

“That what? That my boyfriend is helping me survive?” Harry sneered. In an instant, he could feel everything falling around him. All the barriers he so carefully placed, all the personas he crafted to appease everyone around him. The masks to hide himself in. They all fell, and all he felt was a pure rage. “You know what? Fuck this. If this is how you guys show jealousy over me having a boyfriend—over me actually making friends with Slytherins—I don’t need you shits.”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, but Harry wasn’t having it. He turned and moved to leave before stopping, “And one more thing. At least with Slytherin, you actually know where your friends actually stand with you. Hermione, Ron, Nev, Seamus, and anyone else who tried to stop these shitheads, I’m sorry. I don’t care enough to even try to argue. But you’re right about one thing Ginny, Tom did teach me some new spells.” He pointed his wand at the ground and hissed out in Parseltongue, _“Vines slither out and block my foes!”_

The floor cracked as thick green vines broke out, sprouting upward and tangling with each other as Harry gave a final turn, leaving Gryffindor Tower as the vines intercrossed with each other, blocking anyone from following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Thank you all so much for the wait, and I hope that you all enjoy this extra long chapter.


	13. Preparation

Chapter 13

Preparation

Harry slept with Tom that night in the Slytherin Common Room. Nobody questioned it when the Gryffindor arrived at the Slytherin dungeons holding his trunk. Draco immediately moved to help him, glaring at everyone who opened their mouth to question Harry. Tom, obviously, followed them. The next morning, Harry ate breakfast silently with the Slytherins as well, not looking up at the Gryffindor Table. He did not notice when Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stood up and approached him. “Mr. Potter, if we may have a word?” Professor McGonagall said.

“Why? Is it about the tournament?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No Mr. Potter, but rather your living quarters. You should come as well Mr. Riddle,” Professor McGonagall said. “Severus will escort you two to my office while I collect Gryffindor House.” She glanced at Professor Snape and nodded. Snape just gave the two a scowl and started walking without bothering to check if he was being followed.

Harry felt his heart froze. He swallowed heavily and looked around the table. His legs refused to move. “I—I…”

“It’ll be okay Harry,” Draco said soothingly. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. Blaise and Theo patted his shoulder as Tom gently pulled him up.

“Come on darling, we have to go,” Tom muttered. Harry nodded and the two left Slytherin Table and followed Snape silently to Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry and Tom waited awkwardly. Harry couldn’t stop nervously bouncing his leg as Snape took to examine Professor McGonagall’s bookshelf, pulling out a book every now and again to read the spine or book jacket before putting it back.

Harry did not know how long they waited, time seemed to either not exist or mock him during situations like this where he was just waiting for horrible news. Nobody spoke. Nobody looked at each other. Then, like a cannon, the door opened, and Professor McGonagall walked inside. “Inside, everyone,” she said in a tight disapproving tone. Harry moved for the first time, glancing back to see the entirety of Gryffindor House walk into the office one by one. Some looked scared, others glared at Harry and Tom openly, while the rest were confused. Harry wondered momentarily how it was that they could all fit in the office, however the room seemed to grow as more people walked inside until the last first-year shuffled in and the door closed behind them. Professor McGonagall and Snape moved to behind McGonagall’s desk. The Deputy Headmistress looked at the students in front of her and frowned. “Never in the history of Hogwarts has anything as embarrassing as this happened! Students throwing their fellow housemates out? You all should be ashamed of yourselves! What were any of you thinking? That this would be allowed? That it is fine to throw Mr. Potter out of his own House? And over what? Petty school rivalry!”

“But ma’am—”

“No, Mr. McLaggen, there is no excuse for any of your behaviors!” Professor McGonagall said. “All of you are Gryffindors, yes including Mr. Potter, and I expect all of you to behave as such! We do not throw our fellow housemates out because of who they choose to associate with, we do not cause vines to grow out of the ground and block the entrance either, and we most certainly do not decide who is and is not allowed to be in Gryffindor based on your own preferences. There are no words to describe how absolutely disgusted I am with each and every member of my own House! All of you should be ashamed, both for doing this and for not coming to me the second that your housemates have decided to act in this disgusting idiocy! I only know of this because of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley bringing this to my attention, and even then it was after you all have decided to kick Mr. Potter out.” Her nostrils flared as she looked at the students in front of her. “You are all very lucky that Headmaster Dumbledore and myself have decided to not expel you for this outrageous behavior! Instead, we shall deduct one hundred house points per student here—yes Mr. Potter, you are also counted in this as well. You should have come to me or another faculty member the moment this behavior started. Letters to your parents shall also be naturally sent describing your behaviors, as well as detentions given to the most active in this embarrassment. I have never been so shameful to be the head of Gryffindor House than today. You all will know when and where you shall be serving your detentions, and how long, by the end of the day today. That is all.”

The room was silent for a moment. Harry could hear the first and second years sniffling and crying softly. The older years were speechless, however, the bolder students moving from looking at Professor McGonagall to glaring at Harry and Tom. “Miss Granger, Miss. and Mr. Weasley, and Mr. McLaggen, I ask that you stay behind. The rest of you go to your classes,” Professor McGonagall said. Harry couldn’t help but notice Snape watching this with an amused smirk on his face. The oily professor pulled another book from the shelf and stepped towards the desk, speaking for the first time.

“Potter how was it that you’ve both knew where the Slytherin Common Room is, as well as the password to get in?” he asked.

Harry had a feeling that question was coming. He glanced at Tom, who stared at Snape calmly. Harry decided to tell only half-truths. “I knew where the common room was because I’m friends with the Slytherin boys in my year. I regularly meet up with them outside of the entrance. So I knew where it was.”

“And did you sleep in the Slytherin dormitory, Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Harry said, his cheeks turning red. “I didn’t want to … bother Professor Dumbledore over something like this, and I was very hurt, and all I wanted was to be with my boyfriend, so I went down to the dungeons and just waited, knocking on the wall until a Slytherin answered.”

“And they allowed you in?” Snape asked.

“Yes.”

“How unfortunate,” Snape drawled. “And I must regrettably assume that you and Mr. Riddle shared a bed?”

Harry and Tom glanced at each other, unsure of how to answer. Snape just sneered and said, “Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for rule-breaking.” Harry barely gapped at Snape, just glared at him as Professor McGonagall frowned. “As for you, Mr. Riddle. Your first year here and causing this much trouble? I’m afraid that Potter and his lack of respect for rules are rubbing off on you.”

Tom just silently acknowledged Snape with a short nod and held Harry’s hand tightly. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said to the remaining students, “I am heavily disappointed in each of you. Mr. McLaggen, I am told that you were the one to personally carry Harry’s trunk? You shall put it back where it belongs, on your own, and you will be serving detention for the next two months personally with me, as will you Miss Weasley. If what Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger told me is true, this all started based on a dangerous and blasphemous rumor you started. To think for just one second that a fourteen-year-old student is a master of the Dark Arts as you said, let alone being He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ginny squirmed, looking highly embarrassed. She looked around, refusing to look at Professor McGonagall, Tom, or Harry in the face. Instead, she ended up staring at her feet and muttered, “It’s because of my first year,” softly. Professor McGonagall looked as though she did not hear Ginny for a moment before giving a sharp glance at McLaggen.

“Go to class McLaggen,” she said dismissively. McLaggen jumped and ran out without another word. “I assume that the current company knows about these events?” she said.

“Yes,” Ginny nodded. “Tom, he uh,” Ginny began awkwardly, “he has the same name as You-Know-Who.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This here is Tom Marvolo Riddle, Professor McGonagall,” Snape drawled, “he is also known, in our current time, as the Dark Lord. More precisely what you see here is a version of the Dark Lord from when he was fourteen, only fourteen. How and why he is here, we cannot possibly say. He appeared, quite suddenly, in my office demanding to speak to my predecessor, Horace Slughorn. He was also shocked and confused to see that Dumbledore, and not his predecessor, was the Headmaster. The young Weasley was correct in this regard, the boy before us is the Dark Lord, but only in name only. Right now he is rather… neutered.” Snape smirked, earning a heated glare from Harry.

“Tom is not neutered!” He yelled.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall warned. Harry huffed and crossed his arms, falling to just glaring at Snape. “I see, well in this case Mr. Riddle, it seems that apologies are due to you.”

“I do not care for apologies, I honestly would rather put all of this behind us so I can help Harry with the second task,” Tom answered. “Besides, Ginny meant well, and I am sure she has been embarrassed enough already.”

Ginny’s cheeks and ears redden as Professor McGonagall frowned. “Very well,” she said. “Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, thank you for bringing this to my attention. However, all four of you should have brought this to my attention sooner. You will have detention with Professor Snape this Friday afternoon. He requires an updated inventory on his potions supply, as well as his cauldrons cleaned.” Snape smirked victoriously at their faces. “Now, that is all. The five of you should be heading to your classes now before you are late. Good day.”

The small group left the office. Harry and Tom continued to hold hands, Harry looking dour as he did so, a deep frown on his face. So much trouble caused just because he wanted to be friends with Slytherins, he wanted to be Tom’s boyfriend. He sighed and Tom immediately kissed his cheek.

 _“Darling, let’s meet with Viktor after classes today, he can teach us that spell,”_ Tom hissed. Harry nodded. Hopefully, learning the dark spell would put him in a better mood.

They found Viktor after class, he was outside physically exercising with a group of Hogwarts girls fawning over him in the distance. Krum’s admirers all glared at Tom and Harry as the two seemed to invade the protective barrier they made around Krum. The Durmstrang student stopped immediately when he saw the two and grinned, “Riddle! There you are, and you have your boy with you,” he said.

“Yes, and we both were hoping that you would show us that spell you and I were talking about,” Tom smiled. “I mean, we both knew that I would teach it to Harry the moment you taught it to me.”

“What do I get out of this arrangement?” Krum asked even though he was already walking towards them.

“Besides the satisfaction of helping a friend?” Tom chuckled. “I’m sure we can think of something to compensate, I assume you already know the task?”

Krum nodded. “I have to save Herm-own-ninny from those creatures down below,” he said, glaring at the Black Lake.

“Just as Harry will have to save me,” Tom nodded. “Shall we go someplace private?” Krum nodded and they walked away, the group of girls glaring at Harry particularly as he and Tom led Krum into the castle. Harry wondered briefly where they would have the privacy to practice the Dark Arts, usually, he and Tom would practice in the Chamber of Secrets, however as they climbed the stairs, Harry saw that Tom would lead them to the secret room on the seventh floor. The secret room turned out to be a sizable room with dummies spaced out enough for the three wizards to practice the dark arts with nobody to witness.

“What is this room?” Krum asked, looking around in amazement.

“A secret room that changes based on what the person requires it to be,” Tom said. “Nobody will find us here.”

Krum nodded, “So, this is where you want my help to corrupt Potter? Has he even done a curse?”

“He’s done much more than that, and is willing to do more, isn’t that right, my darling?” Tom hummed.

“Yes, Tom,” Harry nodded. He looked at Krum, “I’ve done Dark Magic. In fact, what I did during the first task can be considered Dark Magic because it was Parsel-magic. Magic done with Parseltongue.”

Krum stared at Harry for a moment before smirking, impressed. “You have a good boy, Riddle,” he said, his eyes going to Harry’s necklace. Harry blushed but smiled. “This spell,” Krum began. “It is hard. It allows you to fire magic underwater. It is not Fiendfyre, but not exactly legal in your country. But in Durmstrang, we are taught this when we are fifteen.” He took out his wand and jabbed it at the target dummy as though he was jabbing a sword. Black flame erupted from his wand, scorching the dummy instantly. “I believe you English call this Demon’s Fire or Demon’s Breath. Diabolica Ignis is the spell’s incantation. Potter, you try.”

Harry nodded and he took a step forward. He took a breath and whipped his wand, _“Diabolica Ignis!”_ His body felt the same high rush that he felt whenever he cast Dark Magic. His wand shook, and a small line of black flame spouted from it, extinguishing before it could reach its target.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Krum muttered. “But you need emotion to fuel it, Potter! Anger! Need to protect, whatever you need.”

Harry nodded. He thought about the spell and his emotions. Emotions that he always tried to hide. He needed to learn this spell. He needed to protect Tom. He felt angry at his housemates. They hated him because of Tom because he dared to befriend Slytherins. They were selfish, blinded by their own cowardness. Anger boiled in his stomach. He held his wand tighter. That’s right, they were selfish. Selfish to believe the lies. Selfish to think that what others said about Harry was more truthful than what he said. Selfish to disregard him. To take him for granted. To laugh when they kicked him out. To call him a traitor! A whore! Selfish! Selfish! SELFISH! “ _DIABOLICA IGNIS!”_

Black fire erupted from Harry’s wand, bursting like a cannonball, the flames rolling into themselves to form a massive ball of fire that was three times the size of Harry. The fire slammed into the targets, all catching fire instantly. The black fire burned and reduced the targets until there was nothing but ash. The flames remained, however, fueled by Harry’s anger until it slowly reduced to nothing. Harry was panting heavily, his face in a scowl as he stared at where the dummies were. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whipped his head to see Krum standing next to him. “That was beautiful, boy,” Krum praised. “You’ve done such a good job.” Harry’s heart raised at the praise and he smiled. Krum chuckled and looked at Tom, “You’ve trained him well.”

“He is my darling for a reason,” Tom chuckled. He reached the two and grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, pulling the Gryffindor into a kiss. “You’re such a good boy, I’m so proud of you,” he muttered. “Now, let’s see how long it’ll take me to get this spell.”

Tom removed his hand from Harry’s neck, and Harry almost whined at the loss of contact. Krum, however, wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulled Harry out of the way so Tom had room. “I cannot wait until I have my own little _krasivo momche_ , beautiful boy, like how Riddle has you,” Krum said.

Harry frowned, “You want a boy like me?” he asked.

“Of course, you are smart, beautiful, witty, and not afraid of what people think is wrong,” Krum nodded. “You are here, after all.”

“Then, what about Hermione?” Harry frowned. “You brought her to the Yule Ball!”

“Herm-own-ninny is a nice girl, a good friend,” Krum nodded. “She helps me in your library, and we talk. But she knows that I am like you and Riddle. We went to that dance as friends. It was fun.”

Harry just hummed and nodded. He watched Tom and smiled, his hand unconsciously going to his neck. Krum saw this and couldn’t help but smile knowingly but didn’t comment on it. Tom, in his perfection and as a young version of the Dark Lord, mastered the spell on his first attempt. The black flames did not flare as much as Harry’s. They were direct, shooting straight for its target and burning it instantly before moving to the next with a flick of Tom’s wand. Harry clapped and kissed Tom in congratulations as Krum just watched the two. The three practiced the spell for almost an hour, Harry getting to the point where he could summon fire to burn one target without flooding his head with thoughts of his housemates. The two thanked Krum and practiced together for half an hour more, twenty minutes of which involved kissing and heavy petting before Tom declared that Harry was ready with that spell. “As for how Parseltongue will affect it, perhaps we will save that little surprise in the water?” Tom chuckled. “We have your spell, but now we need to figure out how exactly you will breathe underwater.”

“The others can help with that,” Harry said, and Tom agreed. They made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, where they separated to go to their respected tables. Harry held his head high as he walked along the Gryffindor Table, sitting between his friends at their usual seats. “Where were you?” Ron asked.

“Tom wanted to practice a spell with me,” Harry said. “Krum taught it to us.”

“Ohh, so you were with Krum? I saw a bunch of girls muttering angrily,” Ron said.

“Probably us,” Harry shrugged. “Anyway, I’m starved.” He filled his plate and started eating immediately when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Vaska standing awkwardly on the other side of the table. “Can I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the empty seat in front of Harry. Harry blinked but nodded. Vaska gave a relieved smile and sat down, “Thank you, I actually wanted to talk to you and Tom, about the thin yesterday, but Riddle’s too busy talking with his other friends, so, maybe I can tell you what I know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry nodded. “Oh! Ron, Hermione, this is a new friend of mine, Vaska. Vaska, these are my mates.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Vaska purred. “Riddle and Harry asked me to find out all I know about my headmaster, for what reason I do not know, but here’s all I can find out in about a day. He’s a Taurus, almost six feet tall, his favorite smells are leather, fire, and whiskey, he’s a rather stern person I don’t think he even knows how to smile, he was a Death Eater, and his measurements are not very exciting.”

“Wait, what? Karkaroff was a Death Eater?” Harry kissed.

“Uh-huh, got that mark of theirs and everything, but it looks faded now,” Vaska nodded. “I can find out more, cause from the looks of his diary he sold people out, but I need more time.”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” Harry nodded. He glanced at the staff table, his eyes falling on Karkaroff, and frowned. He was a Death Eater? Why was he now the Headmaster of Durmstrang? What happened? And more importantly, why was he still alive? Harry made an annoyed sound and pushed those thoughts to the side; he’ll worry about them later. “Thanks, Vaska.”

“No problem Harry,” Vaska grinned. “I was serious, you know, when I say I only desire to be your friend.”

“Oh right, well uhh you wouldn’t happen to know a way that’ll let me breathe underwater, do you?” Harry asked.

“Hmm, not off the top of my head, but I’m happy to help,” Vaska smiled. Harry grinned at that. He looked at Ron and Hermione and said, “Tom and I figured out everything about the second task, we just need to figure out how I’m going to breathe underwater for an hour. The task is going to be me swimming down to the merpeople… to rescue Tom.”

“They’re going to kidnap him? No way Dumbledore would allow that!” Ron said.

“That was my thought, but we can’t think about that, we have to focus on figuring out how I’m going to breathe underwater. I was kind of hoping that you two would help me,” Harry said bashfully.

“Of course we will!” Hermione said immediately. Harry smiled as Ron nodded. “You too, Vaska?” he asked.

“Yeah, definitely,” Vaska nodded. Harry’s smile grew at that, and the conversations quickly turned to other things as Harry started to feel settled and at home with himself sitting at the Gryffindor table, a feeling he had not felt for a long time.

Later that night, Harry felt awkward again. Barely anybody talked to him Gryffindor Tower was full of grumbles and glances whenever he passed by, but it did not matter. Neville smiled at him, as well as Seamus and Dean, Seamus sporting a black eye which he wore with pride. “Why wouldn’t I be proud of defending my friend, eh?” Harry laughed at that, and the fourth-year boys all stayed up to talk about the stuff they did as they shared butterbeer that Dean provided.

Tom made sure that whenever they did not have class, they were in the library, figuring out a way to make Harry breathe underwater. Vaska joined them whenever they could. They found complicated spells and potions that all went over Harry’s head, one book showed how to transfigure himself into a shark, and Harry did not even think that was possible to learn in less than a month. The rest of January passed fruitlessly, the small group not feeling any closer than they did before.

During February, Ron was stopped on his way to the library by none other than Draco Malfoy. Ron glared at him and said, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“To talk… about, you know, what happened over the break,” Malfoy said cautiously.

“Nothing happened,” Ron said roughly. “We were hexed, both of us. There’s no way I would normally do anything like that with you of all people Malfoy!”

“Oh, right, of course,” Malfoy said, he looked hurt for a moment before sneering. “As if I would ever want to kiss you again, Weasley.”

The two glared and sneered at each other. “Well good,” Ron said a bit too roughly, “Cause as if anyone wants to be kissed by a sleazy, slimy guy like you!”

“And anyone would want to even kiss an idiot like you, Weasley!” Draco yelled back. “You have to be both blind and can’t smell to even think about going near your face and breath.”

“Well fine, long as we’re on the same page Malfoy,” Ron sneered and he gave Draco a rude gesture before leaving, stomping away from Malfoy. He slowed down when Malfoy was nowhere was in sight and sighed before moving on slowly.

If Ron’s sour mood was noticeable, he was happy that his friends chose to ignore it as they continued to research ways for Harry to breathe underwater. The Second Task was coming up quickly now that they were in February, and they all started to feel the pressure.

It was the week before the task now, and Vaska gave a loud gasp, “Of course! Harry, I’m sorry but your friend is an idiot! Your friend being me!” He was holding a herbology book and grinned at the two of them. “Gillyweed! It’s so obvious!”

“Gillyweed? What’s that?” Harry asked.

“It’s a plant that allows humans to breathe underwater for an hour,” Vaska said. He turned the book towards the others. There was a drawing of a green slimy-looking plant that looked like rat tails all balled together. “You just need to ingest it and you can breathe underwater!”

“What exactly does it do?” Tom asked, staring at the picture hesitantly.

“It gives Harry gills, obviously, so he can breathe underwater, as well as web your hands and feet so you can swim easily. I know you’re busy working on, other spells, and with so little time left this seems like the best choice,” Vaska said. He turned the book so he can read it aloud, “It says that Gillyweed can be found naturally in the Mediterranean Sea, however, I am sure that I’ll be able to find some before the second trial.”

“You are sure?” Tom said, looking at the Durmstrang.

“Know what? I am positive, handsome, that I can get it, you desire that right?” Vaska asked. Harry and Tom nodded. “Then it’ll be done.” He said it in such a certainty that Harry felt at ease. The group looked around and relaxed into their chairs. Ron frowned as he closed his book and stretched. “Now what?” he asked.

Tom answered. “Now, Vaska just gets my darling his Gillyweed, and we just wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Second Task, and where everything goes to hell.


	14. The Second Task

Chapter 14

The Second Task

Time has just finished writing on a small memo. She read it twice, making sure her handwriting was absolutely perfect, before pressing a button. She waited precisely forty-seven seconds and the door opened, her secretary stumbling in. “Yes, Madam Time?” she asked.

Time held out the memo, “Have someone from HR take care of this,” she said in a dismissive tone. Her secretary took the memo and ran off, the door closing behind her. Time smiled and relaxed in her chair, kicking up her feet on her desk. It was about time to enjoy the Second Task.

Vaska came through with the Gillyweed the day before the Second Task. It was a slimy ball that made disgusting noises as Harry held onto it, and Vaska gave him a small jar to hold the gillyweed in until it was time to eat it. Harry, being extremely nervous for Tom’s safety tomorrow, ate dinner with the Slytherins that night, much to his friends’ amusement. “You’re acting like a wife sending her husband off to war,” Blaise commented with a grin. “You’ll do fine Harry, we believe in you.”

“And yet better win, I actually have money in those Weasley twins’ stupid betting pool that you’ll be the first to complete this,” Draco grumbled.

“I am so relieved to see that you are confident in Harry’s success,” Tom drawled. “You will be fine, my darling,” he purred as he petted Harry’s hair. “The Gillyweed, as well as our countless practicing will serve you well. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ll rescue me in twenty minutes.”

Harry just nodded silently. He did not want Tom to be at the bottom of the Black Lake, guarded by merpeople. But he knew that neither of them had no way out of it. So instead he just held Tom’s hand as hard as he could that night, and when they had to separate to sleep, Harry never wanted their kiss to end.

The next morning, as Harry expected, he did not find Tom at the Slytherin table. However, he also did not see Hermione strangely enough. Harry worried that they took two people for him to rescue, his boyfriend and friend, but before he could do anything about it, there was a distinct thumping noise as Professor Moody made his way to Harry. “Come along Potter,” he growled out, “all the champions’ have to be at the lake.” He grabbed Harry the shoulder of his cloak and pulled him up. Harry only had time to wave goodbye to Ron before he was being escorted out of the Great Hall.

They stepped onto the school grounds when Moody said, “So Potter, figured out how you’re going to breathe underwater?”

“Uh yes sir, Gillyweed,” Harry said, pulling the jar out of his robes’ pocket. Professor Moody grunted, both his regular and magical eyes falling on the jar for a moment. “What about underwater? You’re reckoning to do more of the Dark Arts you did in the First Task?” he asked.

Harry blinked. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me. That clever trick with the vines? Lucky Dumbledore did not notice it, eh?” Moody said. “Tricky tactic though, using the Dark Arts. Whatever gets it done, eh Potter? Even associating yourselves with those Durmstrang students.”

Harry started to feel a little uncomfortable. “Sir, I do not know what you’re talking about. I don’t use the Dark Arts.”

“Don’t eh? That’s your answer?” Moody chuckled. Harry just decided to just keep walking, not knowing how, and not wanting, to answer Professor Moody’s question. Instead, he looked ahead to see that the seats that once encircled the dragons’ enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The judges’ table was by the lake’s edge, and as usual, Harry was the last champion to arrive. Now that he was closer, Harry could see that, for some reason, Percy Weasley was sitting along with the other judges with Mr. Crouch nowhere to be found. “Ah! There he is! Harry Potter at last,” Mr. Ludo Bagman said. He stood up and immediately went to shake Harry’s hand. “Good morning, my lad, good morning! And what a morning it is! I hope you are all ready for a little swim,” He chuckled at this own joke.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry said awkwardly. He looked at the others and his cheeks turned red when he saw that they were already changed into their swimwear while Harry was still fully in his robes. Krum, in fact, was just standing hearing a pair of swim trunks while Fleur and Cedric were both wearing full-body swimwear. Harry stared at the three, confused and nervous, when Cedric pointed to a small tent just next to the stands. Harry nodded and quickly ran to the tent, finding a pair of red and black swimwear that had his name on it. It was a full-body like Cedric’s, looking more like a pair of swim trunks and a sleeveless shirt. He changed and returned to join the others just as the stands were starting to fill.

Nobody talked. A serious, worried air buzzing around them. Harry swallowed, knowing that for each of them, someone they cared about was at the bottom of the lake waiting for them. Harry held onto his wand and jar of gillyweed, swallowing the nerves as they came. He saw his Gryffindor friends and waved to them, smiling when half of them waved back, and his smile turned to a grin when he saw almost all of Slytherin waving for him, one of the bolder few, as in Blaise and a few seventh years, cheering “GO GET THEM, POTTER!”

Bagman moved once again from the judges’ table to position the four of them at the lake’s edge. Harry pulled the gillyweed out of the jar and set it aside, holding the gillyweed in his hand. He was next to Krum, who spoke for the first time of the day. “They have Tom down there.” It was more of a statement than a question. Still, Harry nodded and looked once more at the crowd, not finding Hermione. “They have Hermione down there too,” he said.

Krum just grunted. Bagman was back at the judges’ table by now and pointed his wand to his throat, _“Sonorus!”_ and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One, two, THREE!”

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Harry immediately stuffed the handful of gillyweed into his mouth and waded out into the lake with the others.

It was so cold, he felt the skin on his legs searing as though they were on fire. He was thankful that he changed for he did not want to think about how embarrassing this would look if he had his robes on during this. He chewed the gillyweed as fast as he could, from what Vaska told them, and what he has read himself, it would start to work almost immediately after he swallowed. He kept moving, the water now up to his waist, when he swallowed and, after a second, suddenly felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He couldn’t breathe and he pressed a hand to his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold wind. He had gills!

Without wasting a second, Harry dove under the water. The first gulp of icy lake water felt like a breath of life. He took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet—they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too.

The water didn’t feel icy anymore either. On the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. Harry struck out once more, marveling at how far and fast his feel propelled him through the water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no lingered seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the oncoming darkness; forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, only to find out it was a mass of black weeds. He moved on, only to feel pushed by a current, and a black figure, like a large octopus, swimming past him. Harry stopped and frowned, pulling out his wand. He aimed it in a random direction and yelled out _Diabolica Ignis!”_ No sounds came out, a large bubble issued from his mouth but still, his magic worked. Black fire erupted from Harry’s wand, shooting off into the distance as fish and grindylows all swam out of the way. Harry grinned and continued on, satisfied that the spell Krum taught him worked.

He swam for what felt like twenty minutes, if not longer, over dark muddy terrain, almost running into what he assumed was that octopus again, before he heard something piercing through the silence. It was a small bit of that haunting mersong.

_“An hour long you’ll have to look  
And to recover what we took…”_

Harry swam after the voice, going faster and faster before, as he swam right over what felt like a dark muddy hill, he saw it. A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces, faces that did not even remotely resemble the painting in the prefect’s bathroom at all.

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wide, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry swam on, staring ahead, and soon the dwellings became more numerous until he reached what looked like a central square of their village. A choir of merpeople was singing, calling the champions towards them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewed from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Tom was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour’s sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry sped towards the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to charge at him with their spears, but they did no such thing. He reached the hostages without any complications. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. Harry looked around desperately for something to cut the rope. He could try to burn it, but he did not have control over the devil’s fire as Tom does. He could accidentally burn down the whole village, or worse his friends, in the process.

At the bed of the lake, he found a large, jagged rock and quickly picked it up. He began hacking at Tom’s binds and after minutes of hard work, the ropes broke apart. Tom floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. Where were they? Why didn’t they hurry up? He turned back to Hermione, raised the jagged rock, and began to saw at her bindings too—

At once, several pairs of hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads and laughing. “You take only one!” one of them said. “Leave the others.”

“She’s my friend!” Harry yelled, gesturing toward Hermione. “And I don’t want them to die either!”

Harry struggled against the mermen, but they only laughed louder. He looked around wildly. Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Tom to the surface and come back down for Hermione and the others/ Would he be able to find them again? He looked down at his watch to see how much time was left—it had stopped working.

But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming towards them. There was an enormous bubble around his head. “Fleur and Krum are coming!” He mouthed, looking panic-stricken.

Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

Harry waited. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song the hostages would be lost in an hour.

The merpeople started screeching and the hands holding Harry all loosened. Harry turned and saw something monstrous coming towards them. It was Krum, half transfigured into a shark so that only his head was a shark’s. It seemed that he tried to transfigure himself—but badly. Krum swam straight for Hermione, ripping the rope with his teeth and momentum, and swam away without a glance back with her in his arms. Krum and Hermione disappeared into the darkness out of sight, and Harry was alone with the merpeople and hostages once more.

Harry was almost out of time and it looked like Fleur was not coming. He swam towards the statue with both his wand and jagged rock in his hands. Mermen tried to stop him but he aimed his wand at them, “Get out of the way!” He shouted and aimed his wand at the dwellings and yelled out “ _Diabolica Ignis!”_ once more. The black fire shot out, rushing over the merpeople’s heads and hitting some stone houses. The merpeople immediately swam away, scared of Harry’s magic and he immediately turned to start hacking away at the small girl’s bindings.

She was free and Harry seized the little girl’s and Tom’s robes and kicked off from the bottom.

It was slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Tom and Fleur’s sister were like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down. … he fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark.

Merpeople were rising after him. He could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water. He aimed his wand again and threatened to send another shock of fire at them. They swam away once more, this time scared by the large octopus that was too small to be the giant squid. The black mass swam out of Harry’s view, but it just ignored him. Alone once more, Harry swam to the surface unbothered.

He felt his head break the water, wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down as he felt his gills going away just in the nick of time. All around him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling. The crowd in the stands was making an enormous amount of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet. Tom and Fleur’s sister both opened their eyes, the girl looked scared and confused, but Tom just stared at her, annoyed, before looking at Harry. “Darling, please tell me that you did not waste your time trying to play the hero?”

“Uhh sorry,” Harry muttered. “I thought that—”

“That they would kill us?” Tom said airily. “My sweet darling.” He smiled and shook his head. Harry felt very annoyed and stupid. It was fine for Tom; he was just sleeping through the hour! Harry meanwhile had to suffer through everything underwater! “Just help me with her,” he said shortly. “I don’t think she can swim.”

The two pulled Fleur’s sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their horrible screechy song. Harry could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Cedric and Cho, both of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. He frowned and looked around. Where were Krum and Hermione?

The three reached the bank and immediately Fleur Delacour, wrapped in bandages, ran from Madame Maxime as she fought to return to the water. “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she hurt?”

“I have her!” She’s fine!” Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout. The young girl immediately ran for Fleur when their feet touched solid surface and Harry and Tom supported each other as Madam Pomfrey grabbed them. “Come here you two.” She pulled Harry and Tom towards Cedric and Cho, wrapped them tightly in a blanket that Harry felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down their throats. Steam gushed out of their ears.

“Got out before Krum, huh?” Cedric said, smiling at Harry. “Though strange that you saved the little girl too.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, frowning. “Krum got to the place shortly after you. He took Hermione and swam off. I never saw them again.”

“Wait… seriously?” Cedric asked. He shared Harry’s frown. They both looked out over the water. “I was the first to arrive with my hostage. Fleur was already out. She got attacked by grindylows. We waited for a long time and then you broke the water with your boyfriend and that girl.”

“How… how long have we been down there?” Harry asked.

Cedric looked around and frowned, “We were all more than an hour, I think,” he said. “I think I was a minute out of the hour limit.” A minute? Harry wondered how much time he wasted down there just trying to save everyone. Cedric saw Harry’s face and nodded. “Yeah, so you’re way out of that limit. But that doesn’t even begin to describe where Krum or Hermione are.”

A sense of dread shot through Harry. He stared at the lake surface, which was so smooth and black it was like a dark mirror. _Where are you? Please be okay. Come on Hermione,_ he worried. He and Tom continued to sit, Harry, staring at the lake. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Ron standing next to him, looking at the lake as well. “Harry,” he said, his voice high, “where is Hermione?”

“I don’t know,” Harry breathed. “Krum saved her. She should be here—”

The crowd cheered, cutting Harry off. He whipped his head to the lake to see ripples in the water. Off in the distance, two figures broke the surface. The water rippled around them and the crowd continued to cheer and shout. The figures did not move, instead, they floated on and Harry stood up as he watched anxiously. He saw a shark’s head on one figure and long brown hair on the other. Are they just exhausted? Hermione should be waking up immediately right? They did not move. They did not swim closer towards the bank. They just floated there. The cheering crowd slowly died down, their applause turning into nervous chatter. Harry reached blinding and squeezed both Tom and Ron’s hands as they continued to watch.

Hermione still did not wake up. Was it because she was under so long? Is her sleeping spell having a prolonged effect? The merpeople by the edge swam away towards Krum and Hermione. Silence fell upon the stands and lake as the merpeople reached the two and, after a moment, dragged them to the surface. The closer the small group swam towards the bank, the more detailed they became. Everything looked wrong. Hermione still did not wake up. Her head was out of the water but her skin looked pale, too pale. Her eye still closed. Krum had his eyes open, but they were glossy, staring at both everything and nothing at the same time. Was he possessed? Was this an aftereffect of his botched human transfiguration?

Then Harry saw red. Krum’s chest was stained red, as were Hermione’s robes. And as they reached the lake’s edge, a scream from the stands pierced out, and Harry felt his legs give weight. Both Krum and Hermione had a hole going clean through their chests.

**Author's Note:**

> If it isn't obvious, some themes are inspired by a song. And Time is the same Time from Mors et Tempus. That said, that said this work, like most of my works, stands on its own and if you have not read Mors et Tempus, do not worry. We can just stay here and enjoy some good old modern Tommary.


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